


'Til the End of the Stars

by obscureenthusiast



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky's an idiot with a crush, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Steve's an alien, The Totally Un-Asked for Space AU, Trick question, and turned into a collage where all the characters are alive at the same time, because fuck the timeline, but assume that anyone except bucky or steve only gets random cameos?, canon has been carefully cut apart with safety scissors, get out your marshmallows kids it's time for, guess who else is an alien, literally haLF OF THE CAST, more character tags to be added as they appear, space au is best au, tagged as teen and up for language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 84,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6115720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obscureenthusiast/pseuds/obscureenthusiast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing has been very stable in James Barnes' life for a very long, long time. None of his smuggling partners ever lasted very long until he met some punk in an alleyway and offered him a job. And for some reason that punk said yes. And from there? They've got the whole galaxy to see. And there's plenty of work to be found, while stellar war rages and the militaristic gangs vie for power all around them. </p>
<p>In short? James Barnes is a galactic smuggler with a heart of gold and he meets a scrawny looking alien with pretty eyes (and an unpronounceable name) in this totally unnecessary Stucky Space AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank my friend Ashe for bribing me to write this on the same day after I spitballed the idea randomly to them and as consequence of that bribery I then spent that night writing until 3 A.M. just to please them, you owe me for this, Ashe, you owe me for this.

James Barnes was just your average smuggler, trying his hardest to make it in a galactic jungle. Of course, it wasn’t a literal jungle, except for that one planet he’d worked a couple years ago (ended up stuck in a tree surrounded by Eliktarian howling monkeys, and that’s the last time he’d work a job remotely near wildlife, those stains had never come out), but the point was that it was him against the worlds. He was used to roughing it and finding his own way.

That was, he was used to it until a certain scrawny alien by the name of Do’oridto Roge’ehrs came into his life.

It had started off as a normal routine. He’d turned his latest haul of illegal goods over to the appropriate (what others would call “vile and untrustworthy”) black market dealers the day before, wherein he left to the nearest cesspit of a bar to get a drink or ten, passed out on the floor, woke up to the musical sounds of screaming, sweaty men having a brawl over some ill-placed bets, and dragged himself out to find a new assignment. All business as usual.

He walked down the crowded city street, the ships passing overhead tracing shadows along the ground. This was a central planet, plenty of people rushing around and living their busy lives. A lot of criminals rushing around and stealing the busy people’s best stuff. Circle of life and all that.

“You just don’t know when to give up, do ya?” 

James stopped mid-step. He glanced at the alleyway to his right, where the voice had come from. There were crashing noises. 

He sighed inwardly at how stupid it was to walk into a fight he wasn’t involved with, but all the same his feet carried him into the dark alley.

“I could do this all day.” A different voice said.

James could only see one figure, and whoever it was their back was to him and they were fully invested in punching whoever it was in front of them.

Then, as the figure pulled their arm back to throw another punch, he got a look at who they were fighting.

Just a skinny little guy. A skinny little guy who was standing, bold as ever, while blood dripped from cuts on his lip and forehead.

James jumped forward before the bigger figure’s punch could connect, “Hey!” he said, grabbing what he now realized was a Dreak (real ugly one, too, not that they were generally a party to look at, with the tentacles and the spikes and _ugh_ the three rows of teeth) and pulling him away from the littler guy. “Pick on someone your own size!”

Given the Dreak was surprised, James pretty easily dodged his sloppy punch and hit him square on the jaw ( _ew_ squishing tentacles). He watched the Dreak reel back with satisfaction, then kicked his ass (literally, and _still_ squishy, damn, did those guys have tentacles _everywhere_ they didn’t have spikes?). The Dreak shot a glance back at James, who stood in what he hoped was an intimidating manner, then ran out of the alley, disappearing into the crowd.

James let out a long exhale of relief, slumping his shoulders and turning to look at the smaller guy with a half-smile. “Lucky that Dreak only likes to beat up little guys, I don’t think I could take him in a square fight, honestly.”

Now that James had a moment to look at the guy, he was even smaller than he’d thought. At least a half of a foot height difference between James and him, and the guy was built with the bone structure of a hatchling dorenta bird (you know the ones that break their bones if they land on anything tougher than spongecake?). His skin was a sort of rosy pale color, with small, pointed ears that just showed under his mop of blonde hair. Hell, if his face wasn’t turned in the most sour, most frustrated face James had ever seen, he might have even said he was cute. 

The shorter guy wiped his sleeve on his bleeding lip, looking at the end of the alleyway, “I could have handled it.”

James couldn’t believe his ears. Go through all the trouble to save a guy and get no damn thanks at all. He snorted, “Yeah, sure, if you _like_ getting punched.”

The other guy turned his sour expression on James, “I had him on the ropes.”

“Right, yeah, I’m sure you did,” James laughed, rolling his eyes. The guy shot him a worse look than before, but James tried to ignore it, deciding instead to glance casually at the entrance to the alleyway, saying slowly, “So, look, you should probably get those cuts looked at, at least, I can walk you to somewhere you can--”

“I’m fine,” the other guy interrupted quickly, walking around James and heading towards the entrance.

James sighed, glancing down at the ground. His eyes spotted a red envelope, with the official galactic typeface on it (he would know, he’d forged it a number of times). He bent down to pick it up, shouting, “Hey! Hey, punk! Is this yours?” He flipped it over in his hand, studying it.

It had a galactic military seal on the corner of it. 

James was so wrapped up in staring at the seal that he didn’t notice that the other guy had come back until a pale, rosy hand was snatching the envelope out of James’ rough ones.

“Yeah, thanks,” the guy said quickly, turning to leave again.

James looked up in surprise, “That’s yours?” he asked.

The guy turned to him, one eyebrow raised as if James had just said the dumbest thing. “No, I just like dropping _other people’s_ stuff in random alleyways,” he snorted.

“You’re in the galactic military?” James asked.

Silence. The guy looked down at the envelope, a dark blush forming over his face. “I… No. But I’m gonna be. Someday.” He snapped his head up to look at James, his chin stuck out in defiance, as if daring James to tell him otherwise.

“You… you know it’s illegal to register for military service more than once, right? If they deny you once, you can’t go back and use the same name…” James asked.

The shorter guy sniffed, nodding, his jaw still defiant, “I’ll use a different name.”

“That’s double illegal. If you were caught you’d be sent to jail.”

“What, you gonna nark me out?”

James shook his head, “Nah, man, I’m no cop, I’m just--”

The other guy interrupted him, waving a hand in James’ direction, “Look, just… shut up and stay outta my business, ok? I can get by on my own.”

A small smile formed without James ever meaning to let it slip. The other guy’s cheeks got redder and he realized that it must look like he was laughing at him.

“I believe you,” James said quickly, stepping forward to close the awkwardly wide gap between them. His smile widened slightly, “but… why do you wanna join them for?”

The other guy shrugged, “Obvious, isn’t it?” he said, “I just… I wanna do my part. Help people, y’know?”

James nodded slowly, “Yeah, but…” he tried to choose his next words carefully, “like, you ain’t exactly a prime galactic military specimen.”

The other guy narrowed his eyes into a glare ( _shit_ the words weren’t careful enough) and he scoffed, turning away and walking out (nope, not careful enough _at all_ ). 

Growling under his breath (how the hell had he dragged himself into this?), James chased the other guy out of the alleyway, “Sorry! Sorry, hey!” he caught up with the guy and matched his steps to his, “That’s not what I meant!”

The other guy, still clutching the red envelope to his chest, didn’t look at James. “Just leave me alone, will ya?”

James sighed, “Look, will you at least let me get you something to eat to make up for breaking up your fight? I didn’t mean ta spoil your good time or whatever…” 

“I--”

“Please, my conscience is gonna be guilty all day if I don’t.”

The guy slowed his steps, finally looking at James again. He glared at him for a moment, then finally said, “Yeah, sure, some food would be fine.”

James smiled, “Perfect, I know a great place just around the corner here, they serve food like you wouldn’t believe.”

Granted, “food like you wouldn’t believe” was more referring to the fact that one would generally be unable to believe that health codes allowed them to serve the food, but, hell, it tasted good and it was cheap, James wasn’t a picky guy. 

As they walked, the shorter guy started to look a little less like someone force-fed him fifteen gamba berries (the ones that taste like a pickled egg and a pumpkin got married and had a sweet, sticky love child?) and more like he might actually appreciate what James was doing and had done (fuckin’ finally). 

“What’s your name?” the guy asked him.

“Oh, um… I’m James. James Barnes,” he glanced at the other guy, “What’s yours?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m known as Do’oridto Roge’ehrs.” 

James frowned, looking at the shorter guy in confusion, “What was that first name again, Mr.Rogers?” (he tried his best with the last name, ok?)

“Um… Do’oridto?”

James’ frown only deepened, “Dorito?”

The shorter guy shook his head, “Do’oridto.” 

“Right…” James sighed, “I’m gonna be totally honest with you, Rogers, I’m never gonna remember that. Do you have a nickname?” the other guy shook his head. “You mind if I give you one?” James asked.

The shorter guy snorted, “Go ahead, I’m not gonna see you after today.”

James smiled, “Thanks, Steve.”

“ _Steve_?”

“Yeah. It’s short, easy to remember, and very easily adaptable for every situation. Y’know, Stevie? Steve-o? Steve-a-roony? Steve o’ war?” James grinned.

Steve looked confused, “How many situations do you expect to encounter in the next half an hour? I’m letting you buy me food and then I’m _never going to see you again_.”

James chose to ignore the last comment. “So, Stevie, what exactly makes you qualified to join the galactic military, anyway?”

“Well, I…” Steve hesitated.

“Wait, wait,” James said, “don’t tell me, your people have some kind of specialized, adrenaline-based superstrength, right?” 

“What?”

James shifted his path a little, using his shoulder to steer Steve towards the door to the restaurant he had mentioned. “Oh, y’know, all these races who’ve got secret abilities? Your people have some kind of something and that’s why you’re mad I interrupted your fight?” He opened the door, waving a hand to let the shorter guy through before him, “You _did_ have him on the ropes, you sneaky dog, Steve!

They walked to a booth for two, James waved at the nearest waitress to make sure she saw them, then slid into the booth opposite Steve.

“I…” Steve started to say.

The waitress brought them a couple of menus and listed the specials and the soup of the day (flaming pepper quornok). James thanked her and she left again. He looked at Steve, eyebrows raised, smiling to encourage him to continue.

Steve shifted the menu between his hands, looking down at the table before he quietly spoke. “No, I… I mean, my people are usually…” he bit his lower lip, glancing around the restaurant. Finally, he nodded toward the bar, “See that guy up there?”

James glanced over. Sitting at the bar was a massive (yes _massive_ , close to seven feet tall, at least) creature. His dark hair was close cropped on the sides, but long and braided on the top. James could see multiple piercings along the points of his ears and tattoos, stark black against pale red skin, peeking out from below the creature’s armored neckline. And, currently, said creature was enjoying most avidly a bloody looking hunk of meat off of a plate. Not even using a knife or anything, just ripping it apart with claw-like hands.

“That’s what my kind usually look like.” Steve said.

“Holy _shit_ ,” James whispered, still watching the creature’s bizarre eating habits (so carnal, so disgusting, yet entrancing).

“Yeah. Get that a lot,” Steve muttered.

James looked back at the suddenly very small looking Steve across from him. “Look, I…”

“I think I’ll get a sandwich, what’s good?” Steve interrupted, burying his face in his menu.

James opened his mouth to try to finish what he’d started to say, but quickly closed it again. If the little punk didn’t want to talk about it, there was no reason for James to pursue it. 

“Avoid the Aocan chicken salad,” he said instead, “Just… word of the wise, trust me, it’s not worth it.”

Steve nodded, “Alright, so how about the zeerton with cheese and pickles?”

“Ooooh, yeah, that’s good, I might get that one myself.”

They passed through ordering, waiting for, and getting their food in pretty much that manner (that is, they talked about sandwich choices and James may have mentioned once about the one time he was there and something came crawling out of the kitchen, but the cook had come out and smashed it with a frying pan before anyone got a good look at it but rumors still circulated that it was something’s severed hand). Until finally James got his guts up to say:

“So, listen,” he tried to ignore the fact that Steve stopped chewing mid-bite to give him what could most nearly be described as a “don’t you fucking start this shit” face. James cleared his throat and continued, “I know you’re all on board with the galactic military life and all, but… I wanna make you a job offer.”

Steve frowned swallowing his bite of food before saying, “Why the hell would you do that?”

James smiled, “Earlier you said you were willing to break the law just to get where you wanna be, right?” he leaned in towards Steve, lowering his voice, “I’m a smuggler and I--”

“Why am I not surprised?” Steve asked. 

Waving a hand dismissively, James said, “Yeah, yeah, I give off the vibe, I get it. But what I’m _trying_ to say is that if you really want to help people, if you really believe in doing right by people, you don’t want to join the galactic military.”

“And what? If I want all that stuff, I should join you as a _smuggler_?” Steve raised his eyebrows (in an all-too judgemental manner, like, holy shit, this guy must have a lot of negative opinions about smugglers). 

James exhaled, “Look, it’s not what you think it is. Not the way I do it.”

“Oh really? And how do you do it?”

“I try to help people,” he smiled, just barely, grabbing his glass and swirling his drink around a little, “I smuggle medications, food, water, things the government won’t supply to people cheaply.”

Steve looked a little less critical now. James smirked and took a quick swig of his drink. Then he set his glass down again and leaned forward, going for the kill (metaphorically, dammit, he was not actually threatening anyone). 

“Look, I’m sure that you could keep applying at a million different recruitment stations and it won’t make a difference, even if you do get in one day,” he said slowly. He shrugged a little, “But helping people? Making a difference? You can help me do that.”

“So, why are you offering me this?” Steve asked, raising one eyebrow. 

James smiled, “Mostly? Because of what you said in the alley.” When Steve looked confused, James leaned closer, gesturing with his hands for emphasis, “Look, I’ve been doing this smuggling thing on my own for _years_ now. Mostly because it’s hard to find… let’s just call it ‘the right partner’,” he gestured with one hand, “on one side you’ve got other smugglers. They’re not in it for anything but the money and, lemme tell you, I do _not_ charge the same rates as most guys. So all of ‘em think I’m crazy. On the other side,” he gestured with the other hand, “you’ve got goody-goodies who don’t want to break the rules. They want to help, but they try to make me work within the broken system, and I ain’t having any of that.” James’ smile grew into a grin and he pointed at Steve, “And then there’s you. You want to help people, but rules be damned if they stand in your way. You’ve got the right attitude. So what do ya say?” 

Steve looked thoughtfully down at his food for a minute, “You swear that we only take jobs that don’t hurt anyone?”

_He’d said “we”._

James smiled widely,“You have my absolute word, Stevie,” he said. He offered a hand, “Partners?”

The shorter man hesitated for a half-second, then put his hand in James’, shaking it firmly, “Yeah, partners.”

James grinned, releasing Steve’s hand and grabbing his drink, toasting it a little, “To our prosperity.” He knocked the rest of his drink back, chugging it in two swift gulps.

Steve lifted his own glass, saying something in a language James didn’t understand before he, too, drank up.

They returned to their meal, chewing quietly for a few minutes. 

“So, James,” Steve said, through a mouthful.

“Hmm?”

Steve swallowed, then continued, “You get to call me Steve, I think I deserve to give you a nickname.”

James laughed, “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

“What do you think about ‘Buuk’ih’?” Steve asked, “It’s a common name on my planet.” He narrowed his eyes sarcastically, “Much easier for me to remember.”

“What’d you say it was?”

“Buuk’ih.”

James frowned, “So it’s… Bucky?”

Steve turned red so quickly James could only guess that his heart had suddenly started racing just to get the blood to his face that quickly. “N-no, not… not that.”

A small confused smile twisted James’ lips, “What? What's wrong with ‘Bucky’?”

“That…” Steve cleared his throat, “That means something entirely different. It’s… well,” he looked thoughtful, “The closest thing in Basic is… ‘boyfriend’ but it’s a little deeper than that. Like a soulmate.”

The confused smile turned sly and James tilted his head a little, “Well… I could be that, too,” he winked, popping a chip in his mouth and chewing.

Steve got, if it was possible, redder. The blush had spread from just his face to all down his neck, now, and James couldn’t help smiling at it.

“Don’t worry, Stevie. We’re gonna have lots of time to get to know each other when we’re stuck in a tiny spacecraft. All alone. Traversing the galaxy. With no personal space or separate living quarters.” He chuckled, grabbing a bite of his sandwich, figuring he’d embarrassed Steve enough (like, damn, he’d just met the guy, gotta cut him some slack.)

Steve glanced over at him from across the table and James noticed for the first time how big and blue his eyes were, it almost made him stop everything to look.

“Stuck like that for hours on end, huh?”

James nodded a little, “It get’s boring.” He sighed, thinking about how many lone missions he had been on in the past few years. There was nothing to do, no one to talk to, just eating and sleeping. “Fuck me, it get’s real boring,” he muttered darkly as he took another bite.

Picking at his food, Steve said quietly, “...And here I thought you’d top…”

James “Buuk’ih” Barnes nearly spit out his food while Do’oridto “Steve” Roge’ehrs smirked with satisfaction.

From then, James Barnes was no longer a loner smuggler, roughing it on his own. He had someone to share it with. He had a friend. He had...

The right partner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James walks his new partner with the pretty eyes back home, then heads off to meet some friends to talk business in the continuation of this Stucky Space AU.
> 
> (also known as "the author continues to be Stucky trash and the boys continue to sass and flirt each other".)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone for reading!! I'm just so happy that people have been enjoying it!! :D
> 
> I'd like to throw a thank you at my friend Ashe, who put up with me using them as a sounding board for pretty much the whole plot of this wacky space adventure! I owe you for this, Ashe, I owe you.

“Um, well, this is me,” Steve glanced at James over his shoulder, digging through his pockets for a key, “you can come inside if you want to.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll come in for a spell,” James said, smiling vaguely and looking up and down the street, barely keeping the horror that was trying to slip onto his face at bay. 

They’d had a good chance to chat on the walk to Steve’s residence. Steve got around to telling James how many times his military applications had been denied (James’ eyebrows shot upwards at the number, but he didn't say anything), listing his many health issues as the reason. He had seemed nervous to tell James, as if he was worried he would back out of their partnership. Of course, the health issues didn’t bother James too much (he’d seen enough of Steve’s tough side today to know that there wasn’t a lot that was going to keep him down) so he just kinda smiled and nodded his way through the list, making sure to give no hesitation when Steve asked him if any of that was a deal breaker, 

In turn, James had been able to explain a bit more about what his brand of smuggling was really like and what a usual job was like. But the further into the walk they had gone, the more on edge James got. Of course he should have assumed that the guy who picks fights in alleyways couldn’t be the _most_ well-off but...

Honestly, this was one of the skeevier parts of town, and that was in James’ opinion, a guy who had willingly gone into the skeeviest parts of the entire galaxy. There was graffiti everywhere and trash and… well, James was pretty sure he’d seen bloodstains on the pavement about fifty yards from Steve’s front door. (Of course, it was still on the upper level, so, in the big picture it wasn’t so bad.)

He supposed it didn’t hurt that this place made his ship’s mess look like a fuckin’ sanitary med unit and, boy, was that a relief. He’d been worried that he needed to deep clean every crevasse.

The door unlocked loudly and the hinges squealed in protest as Steve opened the door. James grabbed the top edge, holding the door open for Steve. 

The lights flickered on as James followed the shorter man inside. He let out a soft whistle, looking around the room.

It was minimalistic, mostly (again, a relief. At least Steve wouldn’t have to get rid of too much stuff to fit it in the ship) and really, _really_ small. There was a tiny kitchen and a cot shoved all in the same corner. There were only two other doors besides the front, which James could only assume were a closet and washroom (with the washroom, presumably, being the same size as the closet. And, no, he did not suspect the closet was very big). 

Steve cleared his throat and glanced at James, “Um… You can sit down if you want to,” he said, gesturing at the small couch in the center of the room, “Did you want anything to drink or…”

“No, no, I’m alright,” James said, sitting down, his eyes still tracing the room. He noted a few pictures hanging from one of the walls and wondered vaguely if Steve had drawn them.

“Well, I…” Steve shrugged, gesturing around, and sitting down on the other side of the couch, “I guess you can kinda see, I don’t have a whole lot to take with me,” he tapped his palm on the arm of the couch, “This thing came with the place, I don’t even own it.”

James snorted, looking down at the threadbare, stained cushions, “Dammit, that might be a dealbreaker, Stevie, I was counting on a couch in the ship.”

“Ehhh, don’t worry,” Steve said, smiling, “we’ll just go down the street a little ways, someone’s probably throwing one out.”

“Oh really?”

“I mean, it’s probably full of drugs and cum, but that’s nothing an air freshener tucked between the cushions can’t fix.”

James pulled a face, laughing, “Mmm, mmhmm, yeah, that’s just the way I like it. We can sell the drugs and, I don’t know, probably clone the cum?”

Steve snorted, “For what purpose?”

“Clone army.”

“Oh really?” Steve raised an eyebrow.

James nodded seriously, “Yep. For the clone war.”

“Who the hell would fight a war with clones?”

Shrugging, James laughed again, “I don’t know, it’s complicated and confusing and it would probably end up a total disaster.”

Steve shook his head, smiling, “Y’know what, I’ll leave the clone wars to you, ok?” he looked back down at the couch, picking at a loose thread, “War doesn’t seem like something the galaxy needs my involvement with.”

James looked at Steve, his smile fading slightly, “Hey, just count yourself lucky you haven’t had to fight in any wars…” he sucked in a quick breath and smiled again, “C’mon. You and me, we’re gonna fight our own war. War against… against the shitty prices of necessary survival items.”

A snort escaped Steve and he looked at James flatly, “The name needs work.”

“Nah, we’ll abbreviate it. The…” he bit his lip, thinking hard, “W...A. S. P… N.S.I.”

“W.A.S.P.N.S.I?” Steve asked, laughing.

“Yeah. Call it the wasp-n-si for short.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Yeah, so, about the… wasp-n-si…” he looked at James with raised eyebrows, “How much stuff do I bring with me?”

James took a breath, “Well, I’ve got basic stuff. All the freeze-dried protein one could ever need, basic med supplies, umm…” he shrugged, “honestly, all you probably need is clothes for any weather, whatever money you’ve got, and maybe some personal stuff,” he nodded toward the wall with drawings, “maybe some art supplies?”

Steve turned a little red, “Oh, those are just…” he looked away, “nothing, just doodles.”

“Hmm, shame, the ship could use a little fine art,” James smiled. Steve looked up, surprised, but before he could ask whether James was serious (he was), the smuggler stood up with a loud, “I should get outta here, Stevie,” he stretched, glancing at Steve over his shoulder, “I have to find us a new job.”

“How long will that take?” Steve asked, frowning.

“Oh, maybe a few days,” he smiled, “That should give you enough time to pack up and let your landlord know he can have his couch back.”

Steve nodded and James turned to leave.

“Hold on, do you have someplace to stay the night?” Steve said suddenly.

James turned around, looking the shorter man up and down (he might have bitten his lower lip a bit), “I’m flattered, Stevie, but I was just gonna stay in my ship like I normally do…”

Steve blushed and looked down, “Yeah, right, of course, sorry, I didn’t think of that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” James smirked, adding sarcastically, “It’s just, oh, boy, whatever would the neighbors think of you? Coming home with a dirty smuggler, you skank.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve snorted, “Just get outta here, ok?” he said, laughing, “I think you’ve made your point, now go get a job.”

James grinned, giving Steve a half-salute and turning to leave, “Yes, sir!”

The door screeched open and James stepped out, looking up and down the street with a deep breath before embarking back towards the city center. 

He had some old friends he needed to meet up with. 

***

The city was built in two levels. The upper one was moderately scummy, especially in the outer areas where Steve lived. But the lower level? It was a place that made James wish he hadn’t left his blaster back on his ship (he usually carried it everywhere with him, but the dealer he had sold his last payload to had insisted on a no weapons meeting). It really didn’t help that the upper level blocked out most, if not all of, the sun, leaving only dingy lamps to light the pathways. It was all walkways, no speeders _technically_ allowed (though there was always late-night races through the more open areas). James walked quickly and purposefully, careful to avoid other people, though that wasn’t too hard. Most everybody down here avoided each other.

Finally, James slowed his steps and sidestepped into a small enclave, where he knocked on a solid, metal-plated door. A small sign in the center read “Crazy Rico’s House of New and Used Droids”. 

The comm panel next to the door crackled, “Crazy Rico’s, watcha need?”

James smirked, saying quickly, “I’m looking for Ricky.”

“We have no employees by that name,” the voice over the comm responded.

“What a shame, I owe him lunch.” James rattled off the second phrase quickly, rolling his eyes when the door slid open loudly.

Damn code phrases were just embarrassing. 

He stepped through the door and it shut behind him. He was in a dimly lit but familiar passageway, which he followed to the next room. 

It was just slightly brighter lit there, with tall ceilings and a whole corner stacked with crates and boxes. In the middle of the room were a few desks with papers strewn across them, as well as a board where dozens more documents were pinned. An open doorway on the right wall led off into what James knew to be a sort of… dormitory. There were beds, food, and supplies, in case somebody was in a bad way and needed a place off the grid to crash. 

This was where the smuggling ring known as “the Commandos” kept their headquarters. James had been working with them for almost as long as he had been smuggling, and there were real benefits to it. Goods moved more quickly and quietly, with multiple chains of transport between the original theft or purchase and the actual loading of goods onto a ship. Not to mention, with a good, organized group like this, it meant that smugglers got paired with jobs that directly suited their needs and style. It meant both the independence that most guys got into the job for and the security of being able to call in backup when you needed it.

As James entered, the only person in the room, a tall figure who was covered entirely in a dark brown fur (Of course, he wore dark green pants and a pair of heavy black boots, so James couldn’t say for sure that he was _completely_ fur covered, but if he had to assume, all signs pointed to yes), turned around with a wave. James walked closer and the figure smiled, shaking his head.

“Barnes, Barnes, Barnes,” the leader of the Commandos, Dum Dum Dugan (ok, so his real name was “Dorumquathnar Dugan” but everybody had given up trying to pronounce that _long_ ago) stroked the lighter-colored fur above his lip (the guy liked to act like it was a mustache, he even waxed the thing, but James happened to know it was just how his coat was patterned), “what brings your lousy ass back to our corner of hell?”

James grinned, pulling the taller man into a tight hug. “Shut up, Dugan, you know you can’t stand it when I’m gone.” 

Dum Dum stepped back with a snort, “We’ll see about that,” he said, then turned away, calling over his shoulder, “Hey, Gabe! Dernier! Get in here, we’ve got company!”

The sound of footsteps from the dormitory announced the arrival of Gabe Jones and Dernier. Upon entering, Gabe smiled at James, waving and turning around to address the man behind him, who was covered completely in thick, leathery skin, like natural armor. He spoke a rough, gravelly-sounding language which James couldn’t understand, but after Gabe finished, Dernier smirked and waved to James.

“Hey there! What can we do for you today, James?” Gabe asked, leaning against a doorframe. 

James smiled, nodding a greeting to Gabe and Dernier, “Oh, you know me, just looking for some trouble to cause.”

“Well,” Dum Dum said slowly, “I can’t say there’s any jobs I’ve heard of lately with your particular…” he gestured vaguely with one hand, “ _signature_ … but I’m sure we can rustle up something for you, we’ll keep our ears to the ground.”

“Thanks,” James grinned, looking around the room pointedly, “But where’s everybody else? Surely the Commandos haven’t all left the party?”

“Ehh, you know how it goes, James,” Gabe said, shrugging, “Jim and Falsworth are off-”

“Off-planet,” Dum Dum interrupted, giving Gabe a harsh look. From behind Gabe, Dernier gave a quick, cautious glance between Dugan and James.

James raised his eyebrows, a small, knowing twist at the corner of his lips, “I get it. The whole ‘ask your questions but expect no answers’ policy. Right.”

“Sorry, Barnes,” And James could believe the apologetic look that Dugan gave him. Dum Dum ran his fingers through the fur on his forearm and shrugged just slightly, “the less information we have floating around concerning current jobs, the safer for everyone. Loose lips and sinking ships, y’know?”

Nodding, James muttered, “Don’t worry about it, bud.”

Dum Dum smiled and exhaled loudly, “What kind of job you looking for, anyway?” he seemed to want to move forward from his sudden bout of harsh tones (and, really, James was right there with him). 

“Oh, um,” James wet his lips, suddenly somewhat sheepish, “well, something low-risk. Supply drop, quick and fast run, preferably not too far out into the black.”

Gabe snorted, “Geez, Barnes, what’s with the sudden caution? You find out you’re pregnant?”

Dernier coughed a quick laugh and said something in his native language, the harsh sounding words laced with what James identified as sarcasm (he was sure that if Gabe had translated it would have been a lovely jibe, which would have burned him badly). Whatever the comment was, it made Gabe nearly choke with laughter.

James rolled his eyes, “For your information,” he said flatly, “I happen to have found a new partner. I want to run him through the ropes, check how it works out.”

Dum Dum raised his eyebrows (well, granted, as everything was fur-covered, he didn’t have any eyebrows, but if he _had_ any, that’s what would have happened), “Oh, really?”

He elected to ignore the snide tone with which Dugan had spoken, instead continuing boldly, “Yes, actually.”

With a groan, Dum Dum took a step back, running his hands over his face wearily, “Goddamnit, what have I told you, _what have I told you_ over and over again, Barnes? You are _bad_ at choosing partners!”

James’s jaw tightened and he looked away, “This time it’s different, I’ve got a really good feeling about this guy.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dum Dum said, the sarcasm thick, “And where exactly is this feeling located, eh? Because if it’s anywhere below your shoulders, I don’t want to hear about it!” (James rolled his eyes, not validating that with a response,) “How often do I have to tell you that you work better _alone_?”

“This guy is the real deal, Dugan, you just gotta trust me.” James said.

“And what about the last partner, hm?” Dum Dum was continuing as if he hadn’t even heard James’ remark, “The red head?”

James cringed outwardly, holding up a hand to stop the other man, “That was _not_ the same.”

“Really? Because she was crazy.” Gabe said.

James turned his gaze on the black man, still holding up his hands to try and stop the flow of conversation, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, it wasn’t like that! She wasn’t crazy she was just-”

“ _Homicidal_?”

“ _Scary?_ ” 

He bit his lip, ignoring Dum Dum and Gabe’s “suggestions”. “She and I were too different, ok? We had very different backgrounds, different tactics, she-”

“What are you talking about ‘different backgrounds’?” Dum Dum said, frowning, “You were both ex-military!”

James held up a finger (taking great care that it was the pointer and not the one he _really_ wanted to flash in Dugan’s face about now, he was getting pretty fucking fed up with all the interruptions) and said quickly, “ _I_ am ex-military. She was a former _assassin_.” He took great care to enunciate every syllable just to make sure the difference was clear. 

“Ok, granted, but, _James_ ,” Dum Dum looked him in the eyes with intensity, “I worked with you. We didn’t last three months, you and I. _You work better alone_. It’s just a fact.”

James shook his head, “Dugan, you and I-”

“No, listen, Barnes,” Dum Dum interrupted again, “you have a _very_ particular style with what you do, ok? And we love ya for it, but honestly we all think you’re batshit crazy, ok?” He sighed, still looking James directly in the face as he shook his head, “And when the two of us worked together, I thought I would actually tear my hair out, do you realize how many financial losses you take during missions?” 

Rolling his eyes, James sighed, “It all balances out in the end.”

“Yes, clearly, or you wouldn’t be standing here today!” Dugan snorted, shaking his head again, “But that’s one of the things that just shows… I’m gonna be honest, it shows that your methods are the most back-asswards that I have ever seen and I don’t think it’s possible for _anybody_ to match them well enough to work with you.”

James smirked, “Well, thank you for the vote of confidence there, Dum Dum, old pal.” 

Sighing, Dum Dum rolled his eyes, silent for a moment as he looked at Gabe and Dernier for backup that didn’t come, as Gabe just shrugged and Dernier just made a helpless sort of gesture with his arms.

“Ok,” the hairy man said at last, stroking his psuedo-mustache and looking at James, “since you’re clearly not changing your mind, where’d you pick up this new partner of yours?”

James took a deep breath, bracing himself (because if there was a problem with him even _having_ a partner, they were sure to love the way he had met him), “Well, he was fighting some jerk in an alleyway-”

“And you saunter up and say, ‘hi there, I can see you're busy beating the shit outta this guy, but would you like to be a smuggler?’” Gabe said, grinning.

James tossed the man a glare, shushing him, “No more interrupting, both of you.”

They each grumbled their agreement and James continued, “And after the jerk ran off, I noticed a G.M. envelope on the ground, I ask my guy if it's his. He says yes.” (Yes, he had elected to breeze past the part where it had been Steve getting the beating and not vice versa) He noticed Dum Dum’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully at the mention of the Galactic Military, so maybe just maybe he was getting somewhere with this. He continued onward hopefully,“Apparently he's been trying to enlist for a while, under different names and-”

“Why do they-” Dum Dum started to interject, before James gave him a look. The other man crossed his arms and quieted down again, though James could see his annoyance.

“So,” James started again, “I ask the guy if he wants a sandwich, since I kinda broke up his fight, and offered him the job,” he looked around the room and, realizing that his explanation was far from complete, he added quickly, “He just wants to help people, you gotta trust me, I _know_ that he's got the right mindset.”

For a moment the three other men were silent, then Dum Dum asked, “But why do they keep rejecting his enlistment application?”

James took a breath (there he was, bracing himself again), “He has some health issues that they won't-”

“What kind of ‘health issues’?” Gabe asked, frowning, “How serious? Are we talking color blindness or triple heart failure?”

“He's just. He's small for his kind, but he's not made of glass he-”

“ _Small_?” Dum Dum repeated, waving a hand for James to stop, “Rewind a bit here and clarify for us, when you walked into that alleyway, who was _winning_ the fight? Your small guy or the big jerk?”

James’ hands tightened into fists (there they were with the interrupting again) and said quietly, “He’s fine, alright?”

“He was getting beat up, wasn’t he?” 

“Dugan-”

“He _was_!” Dum Dum sucked in a quick breath and shook his head at James, “I can’t believe you. What are you doing inviting some-”

“I don’t want to hear it!” James said loudly, cutting off the other man (no, of course he didn’t kinda love getting to be the one doing the interrupting, that would be petty) and saying quickly, “This guy has the right stuff. And don’t you dare say that there wasn’t a time when you woulda been saving me from getting my ass beat by some jerk in an alleyway, alright?” He wiped a hand over his face tiredly, “Look, just… trust me with this.”

Dernier grumbled something in a low voice and Gabe nodded his agreement before translating, “Dernier says you're asking us to take a bit much on faith here.”

James raised his eyebrows, nodding, “Yes, I am. But I need you to… please, please trust me?” Goddamn, he’d been saying that a lot since this conversation had started, “I'll bring him by here once you find us a job, but I don't want to hear any more bullshit, alright?” He looked at Dugan, “Whatever your opinion of him, he _is_ my partner and you'll treat him with respect.”

Dum Dum nodded slowly, “Of course, Barnes, but…” he exhaled, “I just want to be sure this new guy knows what he's getting into.”

James smiled, “Don’t worry about it, Dugan. I think he’s gonna be just fine. Now,” he took a couple steps backward, “if you gentlemen don’t mind, I gotta go check on my ship,” waving to the three men, he said a quick, “Thanks, Dum Dum! Gabe, Dernier, I’ll see you around!” before turning around and walking out of headquarters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, comments are appreciated and I always comment back. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Barnes cleans his ship. Dum Dum Dugan plays Dad Friend™. Do'oridto Roge'ehrs has some... doubts. 
> 
> And the new smuggling partners finally get a job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S/O to my beta, this would be a mess without you!!!

Three days later, James was organizing and cleaning in his ship when Dugan contacted him. A loud beeping alerted the smuggler to an incoming transmission. James looked up from the shelves he was dusting (dammit, this new partner had him _dusting_ , what the hell?) and jumped to his feet, hopping up the narrow metal steps and ducking through the doorway to the cockpit. The main viewscreen was lit up with a yellow message, a series of scrambled numbers the only indication of who was trying to contact him.

James sat down, tossing a switch and pressing a button to accept the call.

The screen blinked once, then Dum Dum’s face came into focus. 

“James!” Dugan said, his voice crackling slightly over the speakers.

“Hey, bud!” James said, smiling, “The encryption is working perfectly, I see.”

Dum Dum nodded, “Oh, yeah, it works like a charm. Can’t be too careful with our business, y’know?”

“So, I assume by business you mean…” James raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Yes, it means I found you a job.” Dum Dum said.

James’ smile widened, “I’ll come back around to headquarters with Steve, you can meet him and give us the run-down.”

At the mention of Steve, Dum Dum sighed, “Listen, Barnes,” he said, his voice grave, “at the risk of sounding like a broken record, are you sure about this?”

“I’m absolutely sure.”

“And him?” Dum Dum gave James a concerned look, “From what you’ve said, the worst this guy’s done is fill out paperwork falsely.”

“Dugan, I told you not to worry about him,” James said tersely.

Dum Dum sighed, shaking his head, “Look, I’m more worried about you in this, Barnes. I know that you love what you do and that’s great. But are you sure you haven’t sugar coated it too much?” When James didn’t respond (he was too busy rethinking everything he’d told Steve, frankly), Dum Dum shrugged and continued quietly, “Just… before you bring him here today, I want you to talk to him, please? Seriously sit down and just,” he inhaled then let the breath rush out again, “tell it to him fair and square. Make sure he knows everything.”

James hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said. He cleared his throat and added, “Sure thing, Dugan. I’ll see you later.”

Dum Dum smiled (barely) and hung up, leaving James sitting silently in front of a black screen.

Turning around, he looked out the cockpit door, at the freshly cleaned floors and altogether much more organized main ship deck. He let out a slow breath, getting up and walking down the steps. He grabbed his jacket off of his bunk (where he’d half-assedly tossed it earlier because where else was he supposed to put it while he cleaned?) and put it on as he headed for the steps which led to the cargo hold, double checking that his blaster was at his hip. 

James fought his nervousness by telling himself that Steve would be fine with everything. (Except that maybe now he was trying to remember how the hell he convinced a guy he ran into on the street to be his smuggling partner and oh, _shit_ , he had definitely been talking about the good stuff but what about everything else? Had he been too vague? He had been too vague, fucking hell.)

***

After James Barnes had left Do’oridto’s house, the alien had taken the man's advice and started packing. Of course, granted he didn't have much of anything, by that night he had managed to finish packing. The past two days he'd been living out of a couple of bags. Anything he wasn't taking with him he had already donated (to a soup kitchen sort of place, he knew most of his clothes wouldn't fit the guys there but maybe some of the kids would use them) and for all of it, his place hardly felt different. It had been stingy enough as it was, the only difference was now all his drawings were tucked away, packed safely with his sketchbook in one of the bags, instead of displayed.

He felt different, though. He felt… ready. Like he had suddenly found the right path, the right place to be (of course, that was crazy talk, he'd met a guy in an alleyway and somehow ended up in this crazy partnership, if he wasn't so ready to leave he might have rethought everything and backed out), and every time he looked at the blank wall where his art had been hanging he felt nothing but excitement. 

This was it. This was going to be a new leaf for him, the way the G.M. should have been.

A knock on his door snapped him out of his thoughts. He blinked a couple times, turning to look across the room in surprise. Another knock. He jumped up, his stocking-clad feet quietly crossing the smooth floor, and checked to see who it was on the monitor beside the door.

The hazy, slightly staticky viewscreen showed none other than James Barnes shuffling awkwardly on Do’oridto’s doorstep. 

Smiling, the short alien unlocked the door and swung it open for James.

“You find a job yet, you lazy sack?” He asked immediately, raising his eyebrows as James walked in.

James nodded, letting out a quick breath, “Yeah, we’ve got a job…” the seriousness of his tone threw Do’oridto off for a moment. The taller man looked at him and the alien could see all the muscles in the man’s jaw tightening, “Can we talk?”

Do’oridto’s chest seemed to compress, his heart falling. He looked down, muttering. “I shoulda known…” he turned away from the door, wiping his eyes tiredly.

“No, no, I’m not backing out, I just…I…” James started to say, but he drifted off, stammering a little, apparently unable to find a good enough excuse.

The alien looked around the bare room. He’d have to unpack again. The thought seemed to stick somewhere in his lungs, stabbing into him with every breath. 

He should have known better than to put too much faith in a smuggler. 

Letting out a long sigh, Do’oridto shook his head, “No, no, I get it. You’ve rethought it and it turns out you work better alone. Or maybe you think your ship isn’t big enough,” he looked over his shoulder at James, letting the bitter note that had tinged his tone before take over, “Or did you just get a call off planet that you have to deal with immediately, but, really, you promise to come back?”

“No, Steve, I-”

“You know that’s not my name, right? If you weren’t such a culturally ignorant prick maybe you could-”

“ _Dorito_!” James cut off the shorter man.

The alien narrowed his eyes at the smuggler, his expression dark. He wanted to spit at James and tell him that wasn’t his name either, but he stayed silent instead. He wasn’t sure why, but something in James’ fatigued expression stopped him. (Granted, he went ahead and kept glaring just to make sure the other man didn’t think anything about this was alright.)

James took a breath, seemingly glad for the respite from Do’oridto’s shouting, “Ste…” he started, then stopped and corrected himself, “Rogers. Listen, I am not backing out. I want you to be in on this, I think you’d make a great partner, but…” he closed his eyes for a moment, wiping the back of his hand over his forehead. He looked tired (that is, more tired than he had when Do’oridto had met him three days ago) and he gestured lamely at the couch, “Can you… can you sit down for a minute? Please?”

Do’oridto looked at the couch, then back at James before he moved slowly over to sit. Once seated, he looked at James expectantly, still silent (and still glaring in suspicion, even if some of his nerves had calmed at the words “I am not backing out”.)

“Thank you,” James said quietly. For a moment he just stood there, shifting on his heels and fidgeting with his hands, taking a few deep breaths. Then he started, “Listen I… I have a responsibility to tell you the truth. I mean, you deserve it, I…” he swallowed, looking down, “I told you some choice things about smuggling and, while they’re true, they’re… for the most part, only the best parts. And,” he glanced at Do’oridto hesitantly, “there’s a whole lot more bad than good.”

Do’oridto’s eyebrows went up further. He was listening. He was still glaring (though less so). 

“See, I… I work with a lot of bad people. And it’s not pretty. I know that most of smuggling is…” James shook his head, “it’s gangs and thugs and… and people getting hurt and ultimately, I know and I accept the fact that my whole lifestyle revolves around some form or another of corruption and…”

“You wanna make sure I know that?” Do’oridto asked, “Because, believe me, I know.”

James sighed, “It’s more than that, though. Stev… Dorito-”

“Do’oridto.”

“Yes,” James hissed, looking down in frustration, “that.” He looked back up, meeting the alien’s gaze, “What I’m trying to tell you is that guys like me are not common. I’ve been lucky enough to find a few other good guys, but there’s not a lot. And…” he shrugged, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that most of the people I work around are more than willing to kill. And to hurt and to manipulate and I don’t want any of that to happen to you, I mean, _shit,_ ” James let out a quick, mirthless laugh, “You only met me this week and I’m asking you to basically risk your life for me.”

Looking down at the ground again, James added quietly, “I can’t… I don’t want to be the one who takes you away from a stable home and straight into a bad situation. So… if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to.”

For a moment there was silence. Do’oridto looked James up and down, his glare long-gone and his expression softer. So. That was what he had been worried about. 

Do’oridto snorted, fighting the relieved laughter that was suddenly bubbling up. James looked up in surprise, frowning.

“So,” the alien laughed, biting his lower lip to try to contain the chuckles, “ _that’s it_?”

James’ frown deepened, “What do you mean ‘that’s it?’, I’m trying to help you understand that what I do it… it isn’t safe or hospitable or even remotely charming, most days.”

Do’oridto snorted again, looking up at the ceiling, “Ahhhh, no, no, have you even looked at my house?”

The smuggler looked around, confused.

“What part of this place looks even remotely ‘hospitable’ to you?” Do’oridto asked, “Was it the couch? Did the couch make it seem like I was attached to the place?”

James raised an eyebrow, “What are you…?”

The alien choked a little trying to swallow the burst of laughter that wanted to come out, “I’m saying that I’m not really here to get comfortable. You realize I wasn’t even born here, right? My home planet is in a whole other star system.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, oh, yeah,” Do’oridto smirked, “I only came here because it was the cheapest ticket to a remotely developed planet, someplace I could hop a transport to the next town over to get to other G.M. recruitment offices once I run out of them in _this_ town.”

James took a breath, rubbing his hands over his slowly reddening face, “Oh my god…”

Do’oridto nodded, “Yeah,” he said, his voice all seriousness, “you know, as much as I’m gonna hate leaving my shitty scrap metal collection job behind and my shitty-ass house in the shitty piece of town, I think I’ll be ok with it.”

Looking down at where Do’oridto was sitting, James said quickly, “What about the whole ‘risk your life for a guy you just met’ part?”

“Oh, wow, I have to risk my life for you?” he rolled his eyes, laughing, “I… I did tell you how many times I’ve tried to enlist into a military, right? Which is, oh, you know, in case you missed it, _currently fighting a inter-planetary war_?”

By now James was smiling, still red in the face as he looked down at the floor, “I… I just…”

“You know, you seemed so smart when I met you?” the alien said, standing up and looking at James with an amused look, “Now should I get my shoes on or are we gonna stand around here stating the obvious some more?”

James nodded, “Yeah, ok, Ste-” he bit his lip, stopping himself short.

Do’oridto took a breath, “You know,” he smiled slightly, “I don’t actually mind if you call me ‘Steve’.”

“You sure I won’t be some kind of uncultured jerk if I do?” James asked.

The alien smiled, “You know, if it makes you feel better, you’ll always be a jerk in my heart,” he said, feigning a meaningful glance and placing a hand on James’ shoulder.

James rolled his eyes, grabbing Steve by the shoulder and shoving him toward the door, “C’mon, punk, grab your bags we’re gonna be late.”

A short while later they walked out of Steve’s “shitty-ass house” and (after Steve made a quick stop a couple doors down to drop the key off with his landlord) headed for the inner city. 

And Steve could not be happier. 

***

“Crazy Rico’s, watcha need?”

Steve caught James glancing at him out of the corner of his eye and the alien could have sworn the smuggler looked embarrassed for a half-second before he answered the slightly staticy voice. 

“Yeah, I’m looking for Ricky,” James said. 

“We have no employees by that name,” the voice responded.

This time Steve clearly saw James wince a little before he, in a pained voice, said quickly, “What a shame, I owe him lunch.”

The door unlocked and slid open and James looked at Steve with a sour expression, “Sorry, the code phrases sound dumb, I know. The Commandos tend to be kinda secretive about this stuff.”

Steve smiled, shaking his head, “No, I think it’s cool.”

“Cool?” James asked, raising an eyebrow as he led the way into the dim room.

“Yeah. I’ve never been to a place you needed a code phrase to get into.”

James grinned, “You’ll get used to it, believe me.”

Steve followed the smuggler inside, muttering, “If you say so.”

He still thought code phrases were cool.

The passageway led into a larger room, which was for the most part filled with crates and boxes. Steve couldn’t help but wonder for a moment if every single item had been stolen. Or did smugglers sometimes deal with legal stuff, too?

“Falsworth, Jim! You’re back!” James said suddenly. 

Steve looked away from the boxes, turning his attention instead on the center of the room, where James was pulling a dark-haired man into a hug, clapping him on the back loudly.

“Well, Dum Dum warned us you were on the planet, so we were really hoping to avoid you, truth be told,” the man said with a sarcastic scowl, once James had released him.

James shoved the other man’s shoulder, “You’re full of shit, Jim, I don’t know why Falsworth puts up with you.”

The third man, who wore a beret on his completely bald and bright green head (his skin color clashing dangerously with the red of the beret), rolled his eyes in a long-suffering manner and muttered, “Neither does Falsworth, honestly.”

James chuckled and looked at Steve over his shoulder, gesturing for the short alien to come closer, “Steve!” he called, “Come meet some of the guys!”

Walking closer so he was standing beside James, Steve smiled, waving a little (he tried very hard not to feel really short, surrounded as he was by men who were all about six feet tall. It didn’t work, since he was, well, really short).

“Stevie, this is Jim Morita,” James gestured at the dark-haired man, who gave a small smile and nod (and who, Steve could now see, was packing a large, heavy gun strapped across his back), “and this is Falsworth Mont’tegom,” the green-skinned man dipped his head decorously in an almost-bow, “they fly some piece of junk freighter, I don’t know, I never pay much attention,” James finished, smirking.

Jim raised his eyebrows, “Oh, is that how it is? You wanna have another race, Barnes? Because I-”

“Alright, kiddos, that’s enough!” A strong, deep voice rang out from the other side of the room. Steve and the others looked over.

A tall, fur-covered man stood in the darkened doorway off to one side, his arms crossed as he strode towards them. He looked at Steve, his eyes tracing him up and down in a critical manner as his hand brushed over his waxed and styled mustache (At least, Steve thought it was a mustache, it was just kind of a lighter colored section of hair on the man’s already fur-covered face). Steve shifted uncomfortably under the gaze, his eyes turning to look away without his real consent.

“So you’re Barnes’ new partner, then? Steve, right?” The man asked.

Steve looked up from the floor, nodding, “Um, yes, though my name’s actually Do’oridto Roge’ehrs, sir, but, you’re welcome to call me ‘Steve’, I don’t mind.”

The man nodded, still looking at Steve with narrowed eyes, as if the short alien was a puzzle he could figure out. He stepped closer, offering a hand for Steve to shake, “Name’s Dorumquathnar Dugan. Call me Dum Dum or Dugan, whatever you like.”

Steve reached up (because there was a fair bit of distance, the guy was, if Steve had to guess, nearly seven feet tall) and shook the other man’s hand, “Nice to meet you, Dugan.”

The other man smiled for the first time since walking into the room, an act which completely changed his face from an unreadable mask to a warm, welcoming presence, “Glad to see you’ve signed on with us. I’m basically the one who runs the organization on all of this,” he gestured around the room vaguely. He glanced at James for a moment, adding in a serious tone, “I guess Barnes gave you a pretty good review of what we do here?”

Steve nodded, “Yeah, and I think I pretty much get it,” he looked around the room, already feeling marginally more comfortable here, “don’t trust the bad guys and don’t get caught, right?”

Dugan looked satisfied with the answer, glancing between James and Steve with something like amusement, “Yeah, that’s the basic plan,” he tilted his head, nodding at the desk and message board, “Come on over, I’ll give you the run-down for your new job.” 

As he led the way to the desk, Dum Dum gave Jim and Falsworth a look, “You two got somewhere to be, eh?”

Jim nodded, “Yeah, of course,” he lifted a hand in farewell, turning away to walk away, “See you around, Barnes. Nice meeting ya, Steve.”

Falsworth caught Steve’s eye specifically and said, “Don’t let Barnes do anything rash. One time he near mucked up a perfectly good star cruiser.”

Steve smiled a little, unsure if Falsworth was joking or not, “I’ll try.”

The green-skinned man waved and followed his dark-haired partner out, calling over his shoulder, “Always a pleasure, Dugan!”

Dugan rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath about “always so pretentious”, but then turned his attention back to James. “Here’s what I got for you, Barnes, it’s nothing fancy, but I think you’ll like it.”

James smiled, “Anything you got, Dum Dum, you know I’m easy to please,” he said as Dugan handed him a small stack of papers. He flipped through them silently (Steve frowned, standing up a little taller and stretching his neck to try to read what the documents were) as Dugan continued to explain.

“There’s a little spot over in the Baarocki System, a moon,” Dugan said, “not big and not important, used mainly for raising cattle, farming, food supply sort of thing,” he cleared his throat, “The problem is, they’ve been having issues with their solar panels. And, if it was on the government-owned buildings, the problem would be fixed by now. But it’s not, it’s private residences, nearly a whole damn town, and the people there can’t afford the parts they need,” he scratched his nose and nodded to the papers in James’ hands, “What you’ve got there is the procurement forms for a half-dozen crates of protein packets. My guy at that warehouse says he can swap a couple labels on the solar panel parts and you can take ‘em for a price, and he’s not asking much compared to what the official price would be.” Dugan smirked a little, “And, if it’s any consolation, you get a couple crates of protein packs thrown in the mix, too. Bet you could sell those.”

James flipped to the last page and raised his eyebrows, looking at Dugan, “‘Not asking much’, you say?”

Steve leaned in closer, catching a glimpse of the number and raising his eyebrows quickly, a low whistle slipping out.“Twelve thousand units?” he asked, looking up, the shocked expression still glued on.

Dugan shrugged, “Look, the government’s charging four times that price for the same amount of parts. I talked my guy down as far as he’ll go. So, James,” Dum Dum gave him a serious look, “do you have the money for this or not? If you do, believe me, it’ll be worth it, you could make some bank for this.”

James sighed, but nodded, scratching at the back of his neck, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got the money, don’t worry.”

Steve glanced between the two smugglers with wide eyes. They were talking about sums of money the way normal people spoke about who would pay for lunch.

Dugan nodded, “Alright, great, I’ll give him a call, let him know you’ll be there. Just land at warehouse 67, present the papers to a guy named Atrunski Dorvin, he’s the short one with biggish ears and tusks, pretty weird looking, you can’t miss him.”

“Yeah,” James said again, though he still seemed unsure (Steve wasn’t sure if it was still the money or something else), and gave Dugan a clap on the shoulder, “thanks, Dum Dum.”

The hair-covered man grinned, “You know I’ve got your back, Barnes,” he looked at Steve, still grinning, “though I’m glad to know there might be someone else who’ll keep you outta some trouble.”

James snorted, putting an arm around Steve’s shoulders and shaking his head, “Need I remind you, I broke up _his_ alleyway brawl. If anyone’s causing trouble, it’s this guy.”

Dugan only rolled his eyes, turning to shake Steve’s hand as he said, “Welcome to the Commandos, Roge’ehrs.” 

Steve smiled, “Glad to be here.”

James waved the paperwork, nudging Steve’s shoulder in way of saying “let’s go”, and led the way out the door, calling over his shoulder, “Thanks again, Dugan!”

“Just get outta here, don’t mention it!” Dum Dum said, waving a hand as if he could waft them out like unwanted smoke and shaking his head with a grin. When James only laughed, Dugan’s face sobered and he repeated, “No, really. Don’t mention it. To anyone. As far as most governments are concerned, I’m a law-abiding citizen.”

“Of course, Dugan, of course!” James said, lifting his hands in an appeasing manner, “Not a peep, not a word!”

Steve smiled, waving before he and James disappeared through the door and into the passageway that led out to the street.

His smile stayed in place even long after the “Crazy Rico’s” sign had disappeared from sight and even as he and James followed the walkways to the upper levels. 

This was a start. This was a beginning. This was…

Something Steve could get used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for keeping up!! And comments are always replied to and always appreciated. :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A grand tour of the spaceship and the author is REALLY REALLY SORRY, STEVE. D: D: (And, like, so's James, but, like, mostly me.)

“So, here she is, I guess…” James said, sweeping a hand dramatically at the ship, looking at Steve for a reaction.

The small alien’s eyes traced along the smooth exterior of the ship, taking in every detail. Honestly, Steve knew little about starships, so he was hardly able to judge the ship for anything more than aesthetic values. It was small, at least it seemed that way; Steve had only ever ridden in the large passenger star-buses. There was a dark red star that adorned one wingtip and black stripes which ran in parallel lines along the silvery-gray sides. The nose of it came to a blunt, square point and the back widened out for the large engines which he’d gotten a good look at while James and he had circled around to get to the front.

He smiled, “I like it.”

James looked satisfied, walking forward and reaching up to brush a hand over the underside of one of the wings. “She’s called ‘Winter’s Heart’. She’s Howler class, military grade, jump-compatible, and,” he turned to look at Steve with a grin, “all mine. Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

As Steve walked forward, James punched a code into a keypad situated on the underside of the ship, stepping aside a little as a wide ramp lowered to the ground. With a _clank_ it planted itself firmly on the metal surface of the docking bay and James started walking up, gesturing for Steve to follow. 

The immediate interior was a cargo hold, mostly empty save a few small things stacked neatly below the dark gray steps which were set against the back wall.

As Steve looked around, James explained, in what was clearly his best impression of a tour guide, “As you see, here we have the very fancy, top of the line cargo bay. You will find the smuggler's hatches on the floor, walls, and one in the ceiling,” he gestured vaguely towards each feature as he listed it, which drew a small snort from Steve. 

James grinned, waving to the stairs with a flourish, “and if you follow this way, sir, the tour will continue to the conservatory.”

Steve snorted again, rolling his eyes good-naturedly and making his way to the stairs, James right beside him. The smuggler stopped to hit a control panel on the wall and the ramp slowly retracted again, the entrance hatch closing with a heavy _clunk_.

They walked up the steps to a narrow but clearly solid door. James input a code into the lock panel and was met by a confirming “ding”, then he grabbed the large metal wheel set on the center of the door and spun it, releasing the airlocks with a hiss.

“As you can see, everything’s pretty well sealed in here,” James said, pulling the door open, “I’ll give you all the keycodes later today, once we conclude our tour.”

Steve smiled, stepping through the door, into a narrow corridor. James followed him, closing and sealing the door behind himself before he started down the corridor.

“This door here,” the smuggler said, gesturing to the narrow metal door to one side, “is the bathroom and shower. Smallest thing you’ve ever seen in your life, and _very_ limited hot water, so watch out,” he continued walking down the hall, saying, “The whole corridor is lined with storage compartments, it’s where I keep ammunition rounds, extra weapons, that sorta thing. Anything small that I don’t want people to know I’ve got.” James said, slapping his hand on what looked to be just another tiled square of the corridor, but getting a hollow noise in return, he looked over his shoulder at Steve excitedly, “I’ll show you where all the secret compartments are and how to get into ‘em later, and you’re gonna have to help me stash the solar panel parts once we get those.” James’ eyes lingered on Steve’s for a moment, his clear excitement shining there, then he tapped the wall with a hand again, turning away as he said, “C’mon, next stop on the tour is the master bedroom.”

“Oh, just one bedroom? Who’s the skank now, Mr.Barnes?” Steve teased lightly.

James laughed, glancing over his shoulder again as he opened the door for Steve, “One bedroom, two beds. I know you’re a respectable type, Stevey.”

Steve laughed, though from the way his face heated, he could tell he was blushing the slightest bit. He elected to ignore the fact and act natural (or as natural as he could because, hell, how was this smuggler so damn charming, anyway?), smiling his thanks to James (ducking his head a little to try to hide the blush) and stepping through the door. 

The room beyond was fairly small, with much lower ceilings than the cargo hold and only about seven feet between the walls to Steve’s right and left. It was a bit longer, though, from the doorway where he and James stood to the small metal steps that led to the cockpit, about ten feet. James walked forward a couple paces, the grated metal floor clanking in response to his movements, and pressed a button on the wall to the right. A panel slid back to reveal a small cot, inset into the wall. He smiled at Steve, “Bed number one is all yours,” he reached up and pressed another couple buttons above the cot, and one below, and three more compartments opened, these ones smaller with shelves inside, “you can keep your clothes and stuff in these. If you run out of space there’s also storage for bigger items down in the floor,” he stomped a foot, nodding down at the grates to punctuate his words. 

Steve smiled, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem, I didn’t pack anything too big,” he tossed his bags onto his cot and looked around the room, “So where do you sleep?”

James stepped across the room and pressed another button on the left wall, which opened an identical panel. The cot inside had a crumpled, unmade bed, the end of it had what looked like an old, wrinkled pair of pants, all balled up and tossed haphazardly inside.

James jumped when he saw them, grabbing them off the cot quickly, “I, um, those are...laundry,” he cleared his throat.

Biting back a laugh, Steve nodded a little, walking toward the front of the ship, “So, do you have a kitchen, or…?” He heard James move to follow him.

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” James crossed over to Steve’s side of the room (the small alien noticed that the smuggler was no longer carrying his laundry around and wondered vaguely if he had actually stashed it out of sight before he walked over) and, big surprise, more buttons on the wall beyond where Steve’s cot was. This one was a large panel, which slid back to reveal a small sink and solar oven (which was only about the size of a loaf of bread), the shelves above lined with protein packets of all colors and sizes. Above the oven hung a basket, in it a single, slightly shriveled-looking fruit of unknown type sat unattractively. A few small bowls and utensils sat on a drying rack attached to the wall above the sink, and there was what looked to be a small refrigeration unit below the sink.

Gesturing at the fruit in the basket, James said, “I usually try to pick up some fresh food while I’m on planets, the prepacked stuff gets really boring after a while, y’know?”

Steve nodded, “Yeah, I can imagine.”

“Ohh, you won’t have to imagine for long,” James said, chuckling knowingly. He nodded to the other side of the room, the wall directly across from the kitchen unit, “that wall opens into more shelving units and a place to hang stuff, gear for cold weather and the like.” His smile grew, “Now…do you wanna see my cockpit?” He lowered his voice, narrowing his eyes and biting his lower lip in what was apparently supposed to be a “sultry” manner.

A loud snort escaped Steve, although from the way heat traveled up his neck he was blushing (not his fault, he had a thing about lip-biting). He laughed, nodding a little, “Sure.”

Beaming, James turned around just a moment to hit the panel buttons again, setting the wall back to how it was before, the kitchen sealed away. Then he stepped over to do the same with all the panels for Steve's cot and shelves.

James looked at Steve excitedly and tossed an arm around his shoulders (and effectively half-pulled him to the metal steps). Once in the cockpit, James motioned for the alien to sit down in the seat to the right and took the left control chair for himself. 

“Ever wonder why these starships are called Howlers, Steve?” The smuggler glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes as he strapped himself in. 

Steve chuckled, fastening the safety belts and tightening them around his small frame, “Not until just now, I guess.” (Of course, he’d never even _heard_ of a “Howler” starship until today, so…)

James flexed his hands, taking the control sticks of the ship naturally as he smiled, saying, “Give me a minute here, you'll see.” He flicked a few switches with his left hand and the ship shuddered a little, the engines growling to life.

James hit a few buttons on the main viewscreen and said, in a steady voice, “Winter's Heart, zero-delta-nine-one-five, requesting permission to disembark.”

A moment later a voice responded, “Winter's Heart, you are clear to disembark.”

James’ smile widened, “Thank you very much,” he said in a cheery tone before switching the comm off again. 

With light touches, James guided the ship forward, turning them towards the open docking bay doors. Once they were on a clear path, with no other ships around, the smuggler's grin turned sly and he muttered a quick “might wanna hold onto something.”

Of course, Steve didn't have _time_ to grab hold of anything, because the next moment the ship was rocketing out of the suddenly very narrow looking bay doors, with a sound that was so low and deep that even from inside the ship it shook Steve's very bones.

Yes, “howl” was probably the best description besides “fucking loud”.

Steve felt like he was stuck to the back of his seat, his stomach turning as the docking bay seemed to fall out from under them. The ship flew at a worrying pace through the doors (Steve may or may not have flinched a little, though was quickly relieved that they did not hit anything), racing into the open sky. Looking over at James for a half-second, Steve saw the human’s face alight with excitement, an honest grin that took over his face as he made adjustments to the ship’s path, his eyes focused forward.

On the other hand, Steve’s knuckles were bleached below his rosy skin as he gripped onto his seat, his heart pounding and his stomach churning.

The star-buses didn’t move like this ship did. They were big and slow and steady whereas this one was… 

James snapped the ship around the top of a building, the ship moving fluidly and quickly to respond as he turned the nose upwards to the atmosphere. The engines still howled away, the noise not quite so bad now that they were in open air and not the enclosed space of the docking bay.

Steve remembered the first time he had ever ridden in a starship. How he’d spent the first day in the infirmary, chucking up his breakfast and anything else unfortunate enough to still be in his stomach. Of course, he’d gotten used to the constant movement and had thought he’d be fine (he had been the last time he’d traveled).

This wasn’t the same. Not at all. This was fast and jolting and seemed to wrench him from one side to the other without notice. Steve felt nausea creeping up on him as the _Winter’s Heart_ entered the atmosphere and he closed his eyes.

_You’re not gonna throw up. You’re not gonna throw up. You’re not gonna…_

He repeated the phrase to himself over and over again, trying to ease his swirling stomach despite the way it lurched with every bit of turbulence that rocked the ship.

Steve was unsure of how long he sat there, hanging on for dear life with eyes screwed tightly shut, but when the ship suddenly slowed and balanced out he took a deep breath.

“Alright, warehouse 67,” James said from beside him, “what do you-”

Steve couldn’t stay around to hear the end of the question, he unstrapped himself and jumped to his feet, managing to run to through the ship to dodge into the bathroom just in time.

***

James could have smashed his head straight through _Winter’s_ main control panel where he sat.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, _idiot_ ,” he muttered, running a hand back through his hair, tightening a fist against the frustration.

Steve was in the bathroom throwing up.

Sighing, James switched the ship to autopilot, setting it to orbit the planet below and alert him to any proximity breach. Unhooking the safety belts, he stood and walked slowly back through the ship.

_Nice job on this one, Barnes, now he’ll definitely want to stay your partner, idiot._

He stepped through the ajar door to the corridor and stopped in front of the bathroom. Hesitantly, he reached up to knock.

Then stopped, stepping back with a shake of his head and a low exhale, wiping a hand over his face. He walked back to the main room, muttering a litany of “fucking stupid, idiot, nice job, jerk,” to himself.

He walked to his side of the room, opened the panel to his cot, and sat down on the disheveled blankets, looking up at the ceiling and rubbing his hands together, trying to dispel some of the nervous energy there.

Dugan had been wrong. Clearly it wasn’t that James was bad at choosing partners, he was just shit at treating them well enough to keep them around.

Was rocketing out of the docking bay at full speed really necessary? No. Was flying into the atmosphere at such an angle that had caused so much turbulance really necessary? No. Had he been showing off? Yes. Was he a shitty, jerk-faced, pompous asshole who was too self-centered to realize when someone else was physically uncomfortable with how fast he was flying? Probably.

Was Steve gonna ask to go home now?

James leaned back with a groan, smacking his head purposefully on the wall.

_Probably._

***

Steve stood up, looking at his sickly pale face in the mirror.

_Idiot._ Who would want to partner with a guy who can’t even hold onto his lunch when a ship takes off?

He turned on the tap, leaning down to splash some water on his face, washing the sick from his chin. Cupping his hands, he got a mouthful of water to wash out the taste of vomit.

Letting out a long sigh, he turned the water off and grabbed a towel, wiping his face off. When he looked at his reflection again, he looked at least a little less like death.

James hadn’t been joking when he said the bathroom was the smallest Steve had ever seen, and that included the one that had been in his last apartment. Currently, he was stuffed in the narrow space between the sink and the door, the shower and toilet to his left.

He stared down at the metal of the sink, “He’s gonna ask you to leave,” he muttered to himself, biting the inside of his cheek.

Closing his eyes, he focused on steadying his breath, building up the resolve to turn and walk out of here. 

_You’re not gonna cry,_ he told himself.

Yeah. See if that works any better than “you’re not gonna throw up”. 

He looked up, staring into the mirror, looking steadily into his own eyes and whispering, “When he asks you to leave, tell him you understand. Ask him politely to take you back down to the planet, anywhere is fine, and…” he paused, exhaling weakly and looking back down into the sink, his heart feeling suddenly compressed against his ribs, “move on.”

Despite the assurance “you’re not gonna cry”, Steve felt his face heating, his eyes stinging.

Blinking the sensation away, he shook his head, taking a final, steadying breath, and stood up taller. Finally, he turned around and faced the door, pausing a moment with his hand on the latch.

Strangely, the thing that stung him the most right now was that… 

“Steve” had started to grow on him as a name. He’d been looking forward to…

He stiffened. Nevermind. It was time to go home.

***

When the bathroom door opened, James sat up with a start, taking a breath and standing. He'd rehearsed what to say to Steve a million times in his head (it was probably more like six but whatever) and as the twiggy alien stepped into the main room, James was ready.

“Hey, punk, how's the stomach?” he asked, smiling.

Steve flushed red and looked down, “I'm…” he drifted off, he seemed to be trying to find the right words. 

“I'm sorry, Steve,” James said quickly. He sighed, shrugging, “I mean, really, I'm so sorry. If you give me another chance…” he shrugged again, offering an awkward smile, “Just don't leave? Please?”

“Um…” Steve looked confused, “You want me to give… _you_ another chance?”

James smiled lamely, his brows still furrowed, “I mean, only if you really want to, it was a dumb mistake of mine to fly like an idiot and you have every right to walk out of here but…” he rubbed a hand along the back of his neck and looked down at the floor, “I’d like ya to stick around.”

“I… You do…” Steve stammered a moment, then seemed to find the words he’d been searching for, a frown still pulling at his brows, “I was just throwing up in your bathroom and you’re not telling me to leave?”

Scoffing, the smuggler shook his head, “No, of course not, why would I be?”

“I just thought that…” Steve started to say.

Then James realized what Steve must have been thinking. He sucked in a sharp inhale of breath and interrupted him (kind of on accident, he just didn’t want the confusion to continue longer than it had to).

“You thought that I would think that you can’t handle space travel?” he asked. Before Steve could respond, James continued, frowning and gesturing feebly with his hands in his rush to assure the alien, “Because no, no, I would never think that. I… I should have expected it, honestly, it happens to everybody their first time up and I could have helped you out a little with my…” he cringed outwardly, placing his hands together in a pleading manner, “Oh my god, Steve, I’m sorry, I realize my flying didn’t help at all with the…” he flapped his hands in a way that vaguely echoed their flight pattern, adding in a little, “whoosh, BOOM zew zew zew” sorta noise to punctuate it.

At the very least, Steve’s blush was receding, he still looked at James with a sort of disbelief as he asked, “So… you’re not gonna fly me home?”

James shook his head, “Over a bit of upchuck?” he laughed, “I don’t hold it against you. My first time up in a smaller starship was not a pretty picture,” he caught Steve’s eye, his voice softening as he said, “I’ll only fly you home if that’s what you want.”

Steve smiled a little, “I mean. I guess it’d be anticlimactic to go home now.”

A grin forced it’s way onto James’ face and he clapped Steve on the shoulder, “Come on, Stevie, we’ve got some solar panels to save,” he turned and walked quickly back to the cockpit, calling over his shoulder, “The worst part is over now, you know! Open space is _easy_ traveling compared to takeoff.”

Steve snorted, “And landing?”

James, still grinning, strapped himself into the pilot’s seat and turned a little to look back at Steve as the alien walked up the metal steps, “Eh, we’ll deal with that when we get to it. Don’t sweat it.”

The rosey-faced alien raised an eyebrow at him, “That’s big talk saying ‘we’ when you’re not the one bent over the space toilet.”

James smiled, switching off the autopilot and taking control once again. He gave Steve a side glance as he guided the ship, “We’re partners now, it’s always ‘we’.”

The smuggler couldn’t see Steve’s full reaction, he was too busy typing commands into the main viewscreen (trying to get it to lead them to the correct warehouse, though he was honestly having little success), but he could see the smaller man look down and smile (a proper smile, too, a great big beaming grin that warmed James and reassured him once and for all that Steve wanted this to work out just as much as he did).

Yep. “We” was going to be the new normal. And James could hardly wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!! Please comment if you like! ^_^
> 
> I'm leaving for a ten day vacation tomorrow and I wanted to get this posted before then, so to me it feels a little rushed but ehhhhhhh.....   
> (In the distance you can hear the next chapter. It's laughing at me. Because it knows it's not going to get written until next month, I'm sorry all. D:)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get the goods, and Steve takes a moment to stare at some of James' "goods". 
> 
> (Aka, the author felt bad about what she put Steve through and thought he needed some joy in his life)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, ok, ok, I am SORRY. D: If there's still anyone out there reading this, I am extra specially sorry for making you wait. That was, like, two months?? I'm SORRY. My vacation was good and kind and wonderful, but then I got sidetracked and the new chapter did not get written until now?? (Ok, technically some of it got written on the plane but only a little). 
> 
> Please enjoy!!! ^_^ This fic is always such fun to write, I just hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Whoever had come up with the concept of warehouses in orbit could meet James for single combat (to the death, of course) because he could _never_ find the right one. Even with his guidance systems, it took him and Steve a half an hour to get to Warehouse 67, and then even a little extra time beyond that to find the entrance and dock _Winter_. 

“Here,” James said, handing a plain envelope to Steve as they walked down the steps in the cargo hold.

“What’s this?” Steve asked, taking the envelope anyway.

James stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his hand lingering over the door controls, “It’s the money for Dorvin. Put it in your pocket for now, don’t bring it out while we’re in the warehouse or the cameras might catch it.”

“Alright, so when do I bring it out?” Steve said, frowning.

“At some point he’s gonna bring the crates in here for loading, that’ll be the time,” James smiled reassuringly, “Just follow my lead, Stevey.”

The alien returned the smile (probably a little less heartily) as he tucked the envelope out of sight. James pressed the controls for the cargo bay doors and they opened slowly, the ramp extending to the ground. 

James cast another glance in Steve’s direction, double checking that he was doing alright, and the shorter man looked… confident. His feet were planted and his jaw was set in a determined line.

Looking away, James’ smile grew. Confidence was a good look for the little guy, if James had to say.

The ramp set down on the docking bay with a metallic “thunk” and James nodded to his partner before walking down, paperwork in hand. (He made sure to keep his pace slightly slower so Steve’s shorter steps matched to his easily and he wouldn’t be left behind.)

Another figure walked across the docking bay toward their ship. Kinda short. Big fin-shaped ears and tusks. 

“Mr.Dorvin, I presume?” James asked the man as he came closer.

The man nodded, wiping his hands over his dark blue warehouse uniform, “Got your papers?”

James passed the stack of documents over, adding in a quiet voice, “I’m a friend of Dugan, I believe he told you we were coming?”

Dorvin didn’t look away from the documents, though his eyebrows shot upwards with interest, “You brought the money?”

James nodded, “Ten for you, two for the warehouse, as promised.” (Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Steve blink and glance at him with a surprised expression.)

Dorvin nodded once and turned away, “All looks orderly. I’ll grab those protein packs for you, Mr.Barnes.”

“Thanks,” James said, smiling politely.

Once Dorvin was out of earshot, Steve stepped closer to James with a raised eyebrow, “ _He_ gets ten thousand?”

James shrugged, “That’s how it works.”

“And you’re not the least bit worried about what he’s going to do with that cash?” Steve asked.

The smuggler sighed, “I can worry all I want, it’s isn’t going to change anything,” he met Steve’s eyes, “I did warn you. This isn’t a perfect and clean way, but it’s the best way I know.”

Sighing, Steve looked over James’ shoulder, “I don’t trust him.”

James glanced back, following Steve’s gaze to where Dorvin was returning, hauling crates on a levi-trolley. 

“We don’t need to trust him, Steve,” James muttered below his breath, leaning a little closer, “Dum Dum trusts him. And I trust _him_ to trust good people.”

Steve let out another small sigh, but returned to his air of confidence as Dorvin got closer to them.

James couldn’t blame Steve for his suspicion, after all, the guy had been asked to take a lot on faith the past few days. Hell, even trusting _James_ was a leap of faith.

“Here we are,” said Dorvin, stopping the levi-trolley and gesturing at the load it carried, “Six crates of the finest protein packs,” the man stepped over to James and Steve, “That’ll be two thousand for the lot.”

James smiled and reached into his pocket for his charge card, whilst Dorvin grabbed a handheld device off his belt. He handed the card over to let Dorvin run the transaction. When the machine gave a little “beep” of confirmation, Dorvin passed the charge card back, saying, “Excellent, that’s all done. Lemme load these up for you two gentlemen.”

“That would be helpful,” James said, still with a polite smile as he and Steve followed the levi-trolley onto the ship. 

Once inside (out of sight of the warehouse cameras) Dorvin slapped his hand on one of the crates which sat on top of the pile. “This one’s extra fragile, best take good care of it,” he said.

James nodded, “Sure thing.”

The levi-trolley deposited the crates off to one side of the cargo bay. Dorvin glanced at James expectantly, and in turn James nodded to Steve.

As Steve grabbed the envelope and handed it over, James assured the man, “All ten is there, as agreed.”

Dorvin took a second to check the contents, then stuffed the envelope out of sight and nodded to both James and Steve.

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

“And you,” James said. He stood off to one side and watched Dorvin exit the ship, arms crossed. As soon as the man was off of the docking ramp, James walked over to the controls and shut the bay doors.

Behind him, he heard Steve exhale loudly. “What happens now?”

James shrugged, turning to look at Steve, “Now we check the goods.”

Opening the crate was easy enough, James had a special tool for the job (ok, so, maybe he had lost that tool about three months back and now all he had was a big hammer and a screwdriver but really it worked either way so if everyone would just stop judging him, that would be great _ok, Jim Morita_?), and all the parts looked to be present and in good condition. 

Placing one of the parts (he thought it was some kind of power coupling) back into the box, James nodded in satisfaction, “Ok, let’s get to hiding this thing, here,” he grabbed onto the end closest to himself and nodded to the other side, “help me haul it over to that wall,” he nodded again, this time tilting his head to indicate the far side of the cargo hold.

Steve grabbed his end (and maybe it was the lighter end, James would never tell) and, as the two carefully hauled the crate, he asked, “Do you hide everything you smuggle, or do you only do it,” he huffed out a breath as they set the crate down on the floor, then continued, “if you expect trouble?”

James chuckled a little, biting his lip in momentary thought. “Well,” he said, “I didn’t used to. But by now I’ve realized that as soon as you think there won’t be trouble, trouble comes and smacks you upside the head.”

Frowning, Steve raised an eyebrow, “So… _do_ you expect trouble on this trip?”

“Well, the planet we’re delivering to is pretty close to the core, so GM presence is almost guaranteed,” James answered, “but if we don’t give them a reason to stop us, it’s not likely that they will.”

“But it’s still a possibility?”

James smirked, shrugging, “Anything’s possible, Steve. Now, c’mon, I wanna show you,” he walked to the wall and knelt down, waving Steve closer. Once the alien was crouching down next to him, James pointed at a dark scuff in the wall, “See that?”

Steve nodded, “Yeah?”

“Between that,” James moved his hand to the left, until he hit a seam between two metal segments of the wall, “and this,” he moved his hand down along the seam, to the floor, “down to here and back over,” he moved his hand across the bottom of the wall, until he stopped, the scuff in the wall straight above his hand. James smiled, “That’s our secret panel.

Steve leaned closer to the wall, clearly trying to discern where the seam ran. 

Smug (he wouldn’t deny that), James moved his hand just below the scuff in the wall and pressed in until a soft “snap” could be heard. Then, as if out of nowhere, the panel popped out slightly towards them, just enough for James to get a hold of an edge and remove it.

“That’s amazing,” Steve said, taking the metal panel from James’ hands and looking it over.

James grabbed one edge of the crate and pulled it along the floor. Steve reached over (after setting the panel aside) and helped him push it into the dark crevice. Then James took the covering panel back, briefly showing Steve how it snapped into place.

Standing up and brushing himself off, James offered a hand to Steve to help him off the floor. “Now that’s settled, we gotta strap down the other crates and grab one of my backups to put in with them.”

Steve frowned, “Backups?”

“If everything goes wrong and we end up stopped by the GM, we’re gonna be presenting papers to them that say we have six crates of protein packs,” James said.

“And there will be questions if we only have five,” Steve finished for James, nodded, “Right, gotcha.”

James smiled, “We’ll make a smuggler of you yet, Mr.Rogers.”

Steve rolled his eyes (probably at the continued butchering of his last name) and followed James back to where the other crates were stacked. After James grabbed a matching crate from his own personal stash beneath the stairs and stacked it with the others, the two secured the cargo. (At first James thought that Steve was being a little meticulous with the whole thing, until he. considered Steve’s first and only experience with James’ flying habits. So maybe the guy was justified. Just a little.)

***

This take-off was a lot smoother than the last. Granted, they didn’t have to get through the atmosphere this time, it was just a matter of getting out of orbit, but Steve thought that James really was trying to keep the ship steadier. And once they were away from the planet, James reached up to set the automatic guidance system, turning to flash a smile at Steve as he did so.

_Damn_. Steve wished this guy wasn’t so charming.

“So,” said James, leaning back in his seat, his hands laced together behind his head, “ _Winter_ ’s gonna take us where we need to go, and warn us if anybody gets too close for comfort,” he looked at Steve with a raised eyebrow, “you are now free to roam about the cabin, folks.”

Steve snorted, rolling his eyes a little.

“No, really,” James gestured around them, smiling, “whatever you wanna do. I could… show you where all the other smuggling hatches are, that could take a while, mind you, and I still haven’t given you the keycodes for the doors, I really oughtta write those dow--”

“Actually,” Steve cut in slowly, “I was thinking I might unpack my stuff.”

James nodded enthusiastically, “Sounds fine with me,” he practically jumped out of his seat and walked down the stairs to the common area. 

Steve got up more slowly, half wondering if James was going to try to _help_ him unpack. (Which was not something he was entirely fine with, because, well, there was some… _stuff_. His stuff. Stuff that needed unpacking.) He stepped down from the cockpit and walked over to his side of the room, hitting the control buttons to open the bunk and the storage compartments. 

“Did you need any help with that?” James asked. Steve could hear the other shuffling around on his side of the room. 

“Um, no, I think I’ve got it, thanks,” Steve said without looking up. He grabbed one of his bags opened it. All clothing except for the sketchbook placed carefully on top.

He turned around to ask James whether it was alright to hang pictures (and, if so, with _what_?) but the words died on his lips.

James was fully invested in digging _something_ , Steve neither knew nor cared what, out from between his cot’s mattress and the wall. This wouldn’t have been so distracting had the man been wearing looser-fitting pants. 

A voice somewhere in Steve’s mind reminded him that he was being a little creepy. And weird. And that this amount of time was not a usual amount of time for anyone to look at any part of another person whom they had only just met.

A different part of Steve’s mind had ground to a halt with “NICE ASS” written in big flashing neon letters as the only thought. 

Finally (thankfully) James sat up, apparently successful in his quest to… was that garbage? Had he just been cleaning, or was it something important?

Steve closed his eyes and forcibly jump-started his mind. “Hey, James,” he said, in his best impression of himself as a functioning, normal individual, “would it be alright if I hung up some things, or…”

“No, no, please do!” James said, turning around and grinning, “I’m not really the type to have souvenirs or, really, any decorative taste, so a little art might do us some good.” 

Steve laughed, “Alright, thanks.”

“Did you need something to hang those with?”

“Um, yeah, but I should probably get my clothes and important things out before I mess with any of that, I think,” Steve said, gesturing at the bag full of clothing.

“Art is important! Besides, it’s like…” James scoffed, adding sarcastically, “ _Clothes_. Who needs those, anyway?”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

The smuggler shut his eyes, nodding as he muttered, “I mean. Besides everyone. Everyone should have clothes. Especially in this ship, clothes are going to be. Staying. On.”

“Nice try, but it’s gonna take more than that to get me out of my pants, James,” Steve said, giving James a teasing smirk before turning back to unpacking.

That one part of his mind lit up the “nice ass” neon sign again to remind Steve that it probably _wouldn’t_ take much more to get him out of his clothes. 

Except, of course, for there to be actual _feelings_ involved, and not whatever it was that him and James were doing right now with the awkward flirting-not-flirting and illegal smuggling and living together in quarters the size of a teacup.

“Here,” James’ voice was suddenly right behind him. 

Steve jumped a little, turning around, and saw James offering a small folded paper to him. The smuggler smiled a bit, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Steve shook his head, blushing slightly, “No, no, I was just lost in thought, um,” he took the offered paper, unfolding it, “what’s this?”

“The key codes for the doors,” James said, “I listed them in the order that we came in, so,” he leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing with Steve’s, “So the first one’s gonna be the main cargo bay door and the second one’s the door between the cargo bay and the hall.” 

He could smell James, he was so close. And it thankfully wasn’t bad. He actually smelled _really_ nice. This, of course, was noted as purely a logical fact. Since the two were going to be living together, it was fortunate that his new roommate didn’t stink.

Steve smiled, nodding, “Thanks.”

James stood up with a smile, walking back to his bunk, “Now, the one thing I ask is that you don’t take that outside the ship. And, even on the ship, just…” he shrugged, “memorize it and then tear it up. The last thing I need is someone being able to get into my ship uninvited.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Steve said, nodding again.

“Great!” James said, sitting back down on his bunk. (Presumably he was going to continue cleaning or whatever he had been doing before, but Steve looked away before the neon sign had another excuse to light up).

Steve went back to unpacking, setting the note with the door codes aside for now, noting to himself to try to memorize them tonight or tomorrow. A small smile twisted at his lips as a realization that he _would_ be here, on this ship, traveling the stars, tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is shorter than the others, I promise the next one will be longer (and better??)   
> Comments! Are! ALWAYS! Loved!!
> 
> Honestly, whether it's simple or complex, comments make my life. ^_^ Thanks for reading!!  
> Next week on "The Space Adventures of Stucky... Peggy Carter????" *crowd "ooooohs"*


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If James was expecting this mission to go smoothly, he was seriously mistaken. This mission is just one problem after another, apparently, and now?? When did Steve become all suave and charming?? And when did one of the most respected captains in all the Galactic Military get giggly?? Seriously, is James the only reasonable one now??
> 
> ((Aka, the author is a Peggy Carter fangirl and will continue to treat her like a goddess throughout this fic, thank you very much, but also sorry Mr.Barnes gets all angsty at the end really he just got away from me like?? rude. Also these boys are frustratingly oblivious to one another, like, wthecking?))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy did I call it or what?? It's been, like. Almost exactly a month since the last update?? I'm sorry friendos. However, as recompense this chapter is actually, like, 2000 words longer than ALL THE OTHERS. Literally, the previous ones have been about?? 4,000 words? This one is almost 6,500. I am so so sorry?? It kinda got away from me, but I'm actually SUPER happy with the result, I hope you all enjoy it, too. :)

James tossed the lightweight plastic ball to Steve, who caught it and easily tossed it back to him across the mostly-empty cargo bay of the _Winter’s Heart_. 

“What’s the point of this again?” Steve asked, though he smiled as he said it.

It had been four days since they’d left the warehouse with the haul of solar panel parts. James had said earlier this morning that they would be arriving in the Baarocki System within the day.

James caught the ball and tossed it back to Steve (though it went a little wide and Steve had to run and jump a little bit to catch it). “It’s important to move around when you’re cooped up in the ship like this,” he said, shrugging, “Gotta make sure you keep up the muscle mass, it’s easy to lose it when you’re out here,” he smirked a little, catching the ball as Steve tossed it back, “Sitting on my ass flying a ship all day is hardly good for my boyish figure.” 

Steve huffed a laugh (he was a _little_ out of breath but trying not to show it), catching the ball, “I don’t think I ever had any muscle mass to begin with,” he threw the ball back to James (it went high, but the smuggler managed to catch it with his fingertips), “I mean,” Steve added, shrugging, “this is a good way to pass the time, I guess.”

James laughed a little, throwing back to Steve and saying, “Maybe we can put some meat on those bird bones, then.”

Steve caught the ball, feigning indignation, “ _Bird bones_?” he asked, scoffing. He tried to toss back to James, but it went _very_ wide and bounced off of a crate, “Sorry!” Steve said quickly, watching as the ball went sailing across the cargo bay and came to rest at the foot of the stairs.

James only smiled and jogged over to retrieve it, “No worries, Stevie!” he called over his shoulder.

In his mind, Steve grumbled something sarcastic about wondering why the Galactic Military hadn’t wanted him in the service. However, instead, he said, “Sorry, I’m really bad at…” he paused, “moving.”

James snorted as he walked back to his original spot with the ball, “Don’t worry about it,” he said. He tossed the ball back to Steve.

Catching it easily (most all of James’ tosses were easy to catch, he aimed them perfectly almost every time), Steve held onto the ball a moment and tilted his head to one side, raising an eyebrow, “Now what were you saying about my bird bones?”

James laughed, “See, now I’m nervous because you’re holding a projectile weapon.”

Steve lifted the ball, “What, this?” he snorted, “You literally just saw how inaccurate I am with this thing, you’ve got nothing to be worried about.”

“Bird bones?” James said, frowning, “No, no, you misheard me. I said ‘word hones’.”

“Really?” Steve asked, chuckling.

“Uh huh, yep, y’know, like… honing your vocabulary,” James said, managing a straight face for all of three seconds before he snorted and looked away.

Steve nodded, still chuckling, “I don’t know why I don’t believe you.”

James smirked, lifting his hands in surrender, “You can go ahead and throw that at my head if you want to. Might knock some sense into me.”

“Nah,” Steve said, smiling, “We are business partners, we have to keep it professional.”

Looking down with a small smirk, James said, “So, I guess it would be unprofessional to--”

He cut himself off as a loud beep sounded from his belt. James frowned and grabbed out his communicator, flipping it open and checking the message.

Steve, worried by James’ sudden frown, walked closer, “Who is it?”

James looked up, “It’s Dugan. He’s asking me to call him.”

“Did he say what it’s about?” Steve asked.

James shook his head, “No, he didn’t,” he murmured worriedly, before sighing and looking at Steve, “We better find out, c’mon.” James took the ball from Steve and tossed it in a small bin next to the stairs before leading the way up towards the main deck.

***

Climbing into the first pilot’s chair, James flipped a couple of switches to turn on the main viewscreen. Steve sat down in the chair next to him and James suppressed a grin, turning it into the tiniest upward tilt of his lips. It had struck James a few days ago how natural it felt to have the skinny alien at his side and the feeling hadn’t subsided. 

After punching in the appropriate numbers, and ensuring to turn on the encryption, the viewing screen lit up with a bright orange message.

_Please wait, transmitting now._

James tried not to roll his eyes. After all, there was no reason to be this impatient, especially when Dugan hadn’t been specific in _what_ he wanted to talk about, but… still…

James didn’t want anything to go wrong on Steve’s first mission.

Ok, maybe he didn’t want anything _more_ to go wrong, the whole throwing up during takeoff hadn’t been the best way to start, frankly.

Dugan’s face flickered into existence on the viewscreen and James held back a sigh of relief. The man didn’t look overly worried, so it couldn’t be anything serious.

“Barnes, how’s space?” Dum Dum asked.

James smiled, “It’s big and it’s cold.”

Dum Dum looked over at Steve, “And you, Do’oridto? How’s the new job?”

Steve shrugged, “Haven’t done much, frankly.”

Dugan laughed a little, “Enjoy it while you can, it’s about to get a little bit more interesting.”

James frowned, “What’s up?”

Dum Dum stroked his psuedo-mustache, sighing, “I just got word from my informant in the Baarocki System that there’s been some… trouble lately. Gang related stuff, they seem to be vying to control the planets there.”

Steve’s face fell into a dark look, “A _gang_?” he asked.

James raised an eyebrow, “Which gang?”

“Well, it’s… Hydra,” Dum Dum said slowly.

Steve didn’t say anything, but James saw him pale slightly, his rose-colored skin graying with fear. James supposed that news and rumors about the things Hydra did were just as far-reaching as any other news, except it was the type of thing you didn’t want your kids to hear about. The kind of things adults, in every part of the galaxy, only whispered about.

He sighed, “Son of a clusterfuck, Dugan,” James muttered, running a hand back through his hair, “If Red Skull is involved--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dugan interrupted levelly, “The gangs aren’t interested in the farmers of the area, they’re in the bigger cities and centers of power. The moon where you’re dropping the supplies at shouldn’t be a problem,” he cleared his throat, “The real problem is actually the GM. They set up a blockade once they got wind of Hydra and now they’re searching every ship stopping in that system.”

James’ eyebrows shot upwards, “ _Every_ ship? Where’d they get the resources for that?”

Dugan snorted, “You know the government and their military budget. Apparently Hydra’s been classified as such a threat that the Galactic Military has a whole division dedicated to hunting them down,” he sighed, “They call themselves SHIELD, and I don’t much like the sound of them, frankly.”

Steve’s frown deepened, “Why not?”

Dum Dum took a deep breath, “From what I hear, they’re more experimental than anything. They have a whole team of scientists whose only job is to look into more off-the-track ideas for getting rid of Hydra. Super soldiers, untested weapons, I’ve even heard rumors of them trying to harness magical energy.”

“So, they’re wasting their time with that instead of bombing the bastards?” James scoffed.

Shrugging, Dum Dum wiped a hand over his mustache and muttered, “I don’t know, Barnes, Hydra’s been looking into just about the same stuff. Maybe SHIELD figured there was something to it. I’m just telling you what I hear.”

James nodded, “Got it, thanks for the heads up, Dugan.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dum Dum said, adding quickly, “oh, and, Steve…”

“Yeah?” the alien raised an eyebrow.

“...I’m sure you’ll be unsurprised to hear that everything I searched through on your background checked out just fine,” Dum Dum smirked.

Steve looked mildly surprised, he glanced at James for a half a second before looking back at the screen, “You… did a background check on me.”

Dum Dum nodded, “Standard procedure, I’m sure you understand. I couldn’t have Barnes running around with a loose cannon for a partner…” at this point Dugan looked pointedly at James, “ _again_.”

James coughed to hide his sudden discomfort, “Yeah, ok, great, Dugan, thanks, call if you hear anything, _bye_.” 

Before Dum Dum could say anything more, James flicked the screen off and sighed loudly, not looking at Steve.

Out of the corner of his eye, James could just see the skinny alien lean back in his chair. His bright blue eyes felt like pure heat as they focused on James.

“He did a background check on me,” Steve said, repeating the fact quietly.

James nodded, “Yeah, sorry, I should have warned you.”

“No, no, I don’t… I mean, I don’t _really_ mind, I’ve got nothing to hide, but…” Steve hesitated. 

James glanced at him for a moment before looking away again, fiddling the pad of his thumb over his palm anxiously, half-expecting the next question before Steve voiced it.

“Was it your last partner? The… loose cannon, I mean?”

Sighing heavily, James nodded, “Uh, yeah. She was a little,” here he hesitated, “different.” 

Steve nodded, “Oh. She,” he swallowed, “Um, what was… she like?”

“An ex-assassin.”

“ _Oh_.”

“Yeah.”

Steve inhaled a quick breath, still nodding, “So, it didn’t work out?”

“It didn’t work out.” James muttered, not wanting to get into the specifics, frankly. And it seemed to him that Steve wanted to move past the subject, too, so instead of clarifying, James stood up and loudly declared, “I’m ready for lunch, how ‘bout you?”

Steve looked up, blinked a couple of times as if coming out of his own thoughts, “What? Oh, um… yeah, lunch sounds fine.”

James hopped down the steps and opened the kitchen unit, glaring at the protein rations as he grabbed down two bowls, “What sounds most appealing? Mystery blue paste or mystery purple gunk?”

Steve, who was stepping out of the cockpit, chuckled slightly and said, “Didn’t we have the mystery purple gunk for dinner yesterday?”

“Nah, that was actually a mixture of the blue paste and the reddish soup. I like to mix them so my taste buds get fooled into thinking it’s new and exciting,” James said, turning to look at Steve over his shoulder.

“Well, then, I guess purple paste sounds fine with me,” Steve snorted, walking to his side of the ship and opening up the panel to his cot. He sat down heavily and yawned a little.

James gave him a sidewards glance as he mixed the protein rations with water, “Tired?”

“Mmm,” Steve mumbled, leaning back, “I’m still getting used to space travel, I guess.”

After placing the bowls of protein into the small solar oven, James turned around, leaning against the wall. He crossed his arms, “Take a nap,” he said.

Steve shook his head, “Really, I’m fine, James.”

“Really?” James asked sarcastically, “Because you look like a Dordehmian vulture’s next meal.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I do not look that bad.”

The oven dinged and James turned around to grab their lunches out, tossing a spoon into each bowl before spinning around to hand Steve his.

“Eat. Then take a nap,” James said, effectively ignoring Steve’s protests (because, really, the guy had looked better and James wasn’t sure how he’d missed that up until this point, but he was making mental notes to himself so it wouldn’t happen again) and adding quickly, “You’ve got, like, three or four hours before we get to Baarocki. A nap won’t kill ya’.”

Steve took the bowl of food and nodded begrudgingly, “Fine, I’ll take a damn nap if you’ll shut your trap about it.”

Despite the small alien’s sour look and dark tones, James detected the hint of a sarcastic gleam in his eyes, so he laughed and sat down on Steve’s cot beside him. (James told himself it was because he was too lazy to walk over to his own, but that excuse probably wouldn’t stand up given further thought. But James didn’t intend to give it further thought, at least not right now, he was in the middle of lunch.)

Lunch is bland and boring to James’ tastebuds, but him and Steve’s conversation is easy and relaxed, talking as much about nothing as something. Over the past days it had surprised James, if anything could _really_ surprise him at this point, how simple it was to feel at ease with the skinny little alien. So, even if the food was the worst he’d ever tasted (and it was a far cry from that, if a little dull), the company made it less so.

After both bowls were empty, James grabbed them up and walked over to the sink, rinsing and scrubbing them out quickly.

“Are you seriously going to make me take a nap,” Steve asked.

“Steve, you look as tired as the ass-end of a fiber-conscious goat,” James said, in lieu of an actual answer.

“So that’s a yes?”

James snorted and glanced at Steve as he placed a bowl in the drying rack, “I literally cannot force you to go to sleep, but if you’re gonna try to tell me that you couldn’t _use_ some sleep I will have to argue that point with you.”

Steve sighed, rolling his eyes with a small smile before leaning down to unlace his boots. “Since I hate to argue with you, I guess I’ll take a nap,” he said.

“I’ll wake you once we get close.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, stretching out and rolling onto his side.

James placed the last of the dishes up to dry and walked to his side of the room, opening one of the storage compartments and grabbing out a number puzzle book, then walked back to his pilot’s chair. He hit a control panel on the wall as he went up the steps and the lights in the main cabin dimmed, leaving the ones in the cockpit at full power.

He sat down with a heavy sigh, checking the time before settling in for a couple hours of number puzzles.

Not like he hadn’t done hundreds of hours of these in the past.

***

“Hey, naptime’s over, Stevie,” a voice cut through the blackness of sleep as a hand shook his shoulder.

The dream Steve had been in the middle of (he couldn’t remember what it was about, he never did) abruptly stopped and his eyes opened to the dim. He saw James, or a sort of shadowy version of James, leaning over him with a smile before the man turned and walked across the room. For a moment Steve’s mind stuck, his eyes blinking dully as he, confused, moved through the in-between of dream and reality. But then he sat up, sucking in a quick breath and rubbing his eyes. 

“How long was I out?” he asked.

“Oh, about three and a half hours,” the smuggler said, “I just got a proximity warning that there are ships up ahead, I’m guessing that’s SHIELD’s blockade.”

James’ hand tapped on a control panel next to the stairway to the cockpit and the lights brightened, momentarily blinding Steve with the brightness. He squinted against the light as he put his feet over the edge of his bed and set about tugging his boots on.

“Should I be worried about them stopping us?” Steve asked, glancing up at James.

James, who was sitting on the small metal steps to the cockpit now, shrugged slightly, “A little worry is fine, it’s what keeps us alive,” he smirked, “Just don’t let any of the GM see it.”

Steve snorted, nodding a bit as he tied his laces, “Yeah, you’re telling me.”

As Steve stood up, James pushed himself to his feet and turned to walk into the cockpit. He took his usual place, glancing at Steve momentarily, as if to make sure he was following (of course Steve was already taking the steps and climbing into his own seat). 

James sighed heavily and flicked a few control switches, “I’m taking back manual control so they don’t think we’re ramming straight through them,” he explained quickly.

Steve nodded, looking at the many screens, lights, and buttons all around. It baffled him that anyone could actually know what they all did.

“Hey, can you flip that panel back and hit the green button for me?” James said, gesturing toward an area to Steve’s right.

Steve frowned, following James’ gaze and pointing finger to a small, silver metal flap. He flipped it upwards to reveal a two buttons and a small switch. He raised an eyebrow and put his hand over the green button, not quite pressing it yet.

“This one?”

“Yep,” James said, smiling.

Steve pressed the button. “So… what’s that do?”

James chuckled a little ruefully, “Oh, it, uh… usually scrambles the code for the ship so others passing by only read a false registration if they happen to try and identify us, but I just had you turn it off,” he glanced at Steve, adding, “It only really works from a distance, anyway, and we’d rather not be caught lying.”

“That _would_ be ideal,” Steve said, smirking.

A few minutes passed in a somewhat tense fashion as they waited for any signals from the blockade of ships. James said that _Winter_ was now well within sensor range of the bigger, more-powerful Galactic Military cruisers. The quiet was setting Steve’s nerves on edge. He already disliked the idea that they were going to be stopped and searched, but… what if they somehow suspected something? 

At long last, a tone sounded from the control panel to alert them of an incoming transmission. James took a breath and the way he squared his shoulders Steve thought he was somewhat bracing himself.

The smuggler flipped a couple switches and answered coolly, “ _Winter’s Heart_ , James Barnes here, are youreceiving?”

Steve frowned, looking at the viewscreen in confusion. There was no picture there.

“We hear you, _Winter’s Heart_ , this is the _GSS Stratus_ ,” a woman answered, “we ask that you submit your ship for inspection, under the command of the Galactic Military and Captain Margaret Carter.”

James’ face flickered with something like panic, but his voice maintained its calm tone, “Of course, yes,” he forced a small smile, as if in an attempt to add lightness to his voice, “I hope there’s not a problem, ma’am, we’re only a transporter, here to pick up some cargo.”

“It’s only protocol, no need to worry,” there was a low beep and the voice said, “we’ve locked on to your ship now, our tractor beam will guide you to the loading dock.”

“Thank you kindly,” James said, although his face told a different story, and as soon as he ended the transmission he was on his feet, rushing out of the cockpit and practically jumping down the stairs, cussing loudly.

“What is it?” Steve asked, jumping to his feet to follow James.

“ _Carter_. We have to move the parts _now!_ ” James said, as he marched to the passageway door. “ _Goddamnit_ , of all the corners of the galaxy…” James resumed his cussing as he disappeared through the door.

Steve followed him, running to catch up, “Who’s Carter?” he called.

James half turned to glance at Steve, “A captain. She busted me on smuggling a while back,” he turned back to look where he was going as he opened the door that led into the cargo bay, this time waiting until Steve had caught up with him and holding it open for the alien. “I was able to get out of the charges, with no small thanks to Dum Dum,” he continued, running down the steps with Steve beside him, “but she found my top three hiding spots.”

“And you still _use them_?” Steve asked incredulously as he followed James across the cargo bay to where they had hidden the parts.

“ _Look_ , I wasn’t expecting to see the Galactic Military on this trip, and I didn’t even figure on seeing _her_ out here. And those hiding spots are by far the simplest and most effective ones I’ve got,” James explained quickly, popping the wall panel off and grabbing ahold of the crate.

Steve reached in and helped James to haul the heavy crate out of the little space, looking at him expectantly now, “So where do we move it to?”

James let out a short breath, then raised his eyebrows, “How good are you at climbing?”

Steve stared at James. 

He couldn’t be serious.

***

By the time their ship docked inside of the _GSS Stratus_ , James was almost shaking with nervousness. They had managed to get the parts re-hidden in time for him to sprint up to the cockpit and set the landing sequence. He couldn’t imagine what Steve must be feeling right now, but the little guy seemed calm enough on the outside. Now they were standing in the cargo bay, about to step onto a Galactic Military carrier ship and lie to a bunch of government officials about possessing illegally acquired goods. James had done it countless times, but he was entirely aware that Steve had not.

For good measure, James turned to look at Steve, his hand hovering over the bay door controls. “Take a deep breath, Stevie,” he said, inhaling quickly himself before looking at the doors, “and don’t worry, just follow my lead, ok?”

Steve nodded a little, his eyes concentrated on the cargo doors.

James pressed the controls and, as the doors unlocked with great clunking and hissing, couldn’t help but think in some part of his mind…

_“Well, fuck, here goes nothing.”_

As the ramp slid down and settled on the metal floor of the loading dock, James (making sure that Steve was right beside him) walked out of the ship, slowing to a stop just after stepping off the ramp.

Walking towards _Winter_ was a small group of people in the dark green GM uniforms. A woman was leading them, captain’s rank clearly striped on the shoulder of her uniform. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in an updo and she looked on them with a chilled demeanor. She would have been taken as human but for the soft silvery marking which swirled along her cheekbones and over her nose. 

“James Barnes,” the woman said, stopping in front of him.

James smiled, raising his eyebrows, “Carter. I hardly expected you to be out in this desolate corner of space.”

“And somehow I completely expected _you_. Or, at least, those of your… occupation,” Carter responded.

“Hey, I’m completely reformed,” James said, raising his hands (and hoping it was convincing), “I got out of smuggling, it was a bad game.”

She looked him up and down, the icy expression still etched into her features, “I’m sure,” she said (although she sounded anything but “sure”), “You said you’re here to pick up cargo, what sort?”

James shrugged, “Seeds and plants. Transporting some over to the next system,” he looked at her expectantly, “And what is the Galactic Military doing out here?”

She arched one prim eyebrow, “We have our reasons,” she said, before continuing her previous chain of questions, “What system are you transporting these… seeds and plants to?” 

James blanked. 

He _blanked_. In front of a Galactic Military official.

What the hell was happening to him? Was he losing his touch?

“The Rook system,” Steve said suddenly. (James could have kissed him.) “It’s mainly industrial,” he continued, his voice matter-of-fact, “but there’s potential for small farms, some places for the people to grow their own food.”

Carter glanced at Steve, “And who are you?” she asked him.

Steve dipped his head deferentially, “Do’oridto Roge’ehrs, ma’am.”

Carter smiled slightly (and James heaved an internal sigh of relief, she was actually buying this), “A proper greeting. I’m amazed. How in the world did someone as polite as you end up working with James Barnes, of all people?”

Tossing a glance at James, Steve chuckled a little and said, “He’s not so bad. Like he said, he’s reformed now.”

She raised her eyebrows, “And are you aware of what he did before his…” she glanced at James and said, with some stress, “ _reformation_?”

Steve laughed, “If you’re referring to the smuggling thing, yes, he told me,” he looked down at the floor, “but, if you don’t mind, ma’am, I think I’ll make my own judgement of him,” his bright blue eyes glanced up to meet Carter’s before he looked away again.

James could not believe he’d been worried about Steve being nervous about lying, the guy was doing better than _James_ was. When did he get… charming?

Carter seemed to notice the charm as well, because she smiled very slightly and said quietly, “I would never presume to force my opinion on you,” she looked at James, now, “However, procedure dictates I search your ship.”

James smiled, waving a hand invitingly at the cargo bay ramp, “Be my guest, I have nothing to hide.”

She brushed past him, leading her group of GM officers into the cargo bay, already listing off instructions to them. 

Once the officers all passed, James looked at Steve and whispered a quick, “Nice work,” with a small smile and a good-natured shove before he followed Carter’s group into the ship.

“-and over there,” Carter was saying as James walked up behind her. She was pointing at the far wall where the solar panel parts had been hidden before. Tossing a pointed look over her shoulder at James she continued, “I seem to remember there was a rather well-hidden smuggling hatch.”

James smiled a little and said, “You’ve got a good memory, Carter. I’ll even open it up for your crew, if you’d like,” he glanced at Steve, who had just stepped up beside him, “Like I said, we’ve got nothing to hide.”

Carter looked hardly fazed, only turned around to one of her crewmen and said quickly, “Start scanning around the rest of the ship for possible hidden compartments.”

The crewman saluted and walked away, leaving James and Steve facing Carter alone. For a few minutes she paid them no attention, her eyes scanning around the cargo bay curiously. 

Suddenly, she said something that James didn’t understand in a low, quick voice. Steve smiled a little, looking at Carter with surprise as he responded in what James now recognized as an alien dialect.

“ _Forrendi ashum Rooklin a’nck temmb?_ ” Steve said, smile growing on his lips.

Carter finally looked at them. Or, at least, looked at Steve. James might as well be invisible. She returned the smile and answered, continuing in the unknown language, “ _Bvorett addan iht calli. Zor psendi?_ ”

Steve broke into a grin, just barely containing a chuckle as he looked down at the floor, cheeks quickly blushing, “ _Vivendi Rooklin forrentdi. Ell do’ordim mea parran._ ”

At that point Carter _giggled_. James didn’t care what Steve had said, this woman was supposed to be a professional, wasn’t she? And here she was actually fucking _giggling_ , covering her mouth with one hand as she looked at Steve (and _only_ Steve, James would have noted had he been able to process anything past his annoyance).

James cleared his throat a little and said flatly, “Captain, how long until my partner and I can get moving?”

Carter looked at James (probably suddenly remembering that there were other people in the room, of all the unprofessional…) and said, the ghost of her _giggle_ still turning the corners of her mouth upwards, “It shouldn’t take long, Mr.Barnes.”

James let out a little “huh” in lieu of an actual response, turning and muttering to Steve, “Can I talk to you a moment?”

Steve frowned a little, but nodded, “Yeah, sure,”

Tossing an arm around Steve’s thin shoulders, James glanced at Carter momentarily to say, “If you’ll excuse us…” as he led Steve away from her.

“What the hell was that?” James asked, furrowing his brow at Steve.

Steve shrugged, a slight motion that James would hardly have noticed had his arm not been around the skinny alien. “She just said something about how dirty the ship was--”

“Of course she did,” James said sourly, tossing another glance at Carter.

“--and then I asked her how she knew the language, ‘cause it’s not very common outside the Rook system, which, I mean, it’s not far from here but… anyway,” Steve shrugged again, “She answered me and then asked me if I was from Rook, and I said yeah, you can tell by all the fights I get into,” he raised his eyebrows at James, “What? Did you think we were talking about you or something?”

“What?” James asked, frowning, “No, I was just… Curious,” he sighed and looked around darkly, “I guess I’m a bit on edge with all these soldiers around, I don’t like them on my ship.”

Steve smirked, “What happened to ‘follow my lead’? Aren’t you supposed to be a professional?”

This _did_ manage to draw a small chuckle out of James and he gave Steve a small shove, mussing his hair a little as he did, “Shut it, I’m allowed to have off days, right?” James asked, rolling his eyes. He glanced back at the soldiers conducting searches throughout the cargo bay, sobering slightly as he muttered, “Besides. Galactic Military and I have some bad memories, I’d rather not…”

“Sergeant Barnes,” Carter called from the other side of the cargo bay.

Every muscle in James’ back stiffened at that, a practiced, commanded posture that kicked in even before James knew he was doing it. The air of command in the voice, the tone, the fact that he _knew_ that she held authority… all of it forced open a part of his mind he’d left behind and created a seamless, simple action…

His body fell into the posture of a soldier without his consent and by the time he realized it, he was standing at attention. Kicking himself mentally, he snapped himself out of it almost as quickly as he had fallen into it, and he turned to face Carter.

“Don’t call me that,” he said, perhaps more harshly than he really intended, striding over to her.

Carter's eyebrows shot upwards, “I'm sorry, I didn't realize that--” 

“What did you want?” James asked, wanting to move away from the subject quickly. He could feel Steve’s eyes on him and he didn’t look forward to the questions that he _knew_ the skinny alien was going to be asking later. 

In hindsight, maybe he should have told Steve up front that he had once been in the Galactic Military… 

Carter took a breath, glancing between Steve and James before leaning in and saying in a low, quiet tone, “I know, or, at the very least, I am ninety percent certain that there is something illegal hidden on this ship.”

James snorted, “I have no--”

Carter lifted a hand to stop him, continuing in the same quiet, firm voice, “Before you try to correct me, Barnes, I happen to believe with almost certainty that my crew will be unable to find whatever it is you’ve hidden,” she gave the ghost of a smile and arched one eyebrow, “You’re one of the best at what you do, after all.”

“If you’re expecting me to give something away, you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m just a cargo transporter now, captain.” James said flatly.

Steve crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at Carter, “Did you know we were coming?” he asked suddenly.

Carter smiled and James thought he could see that giggle again, barely masked behind the cold exterior the GM captain usually showed. She looked at Steve and James with the closest approximation of that coldness, lacking as it was, “I am sure that the residents of the moon will be glad to see you,” she glanced upwards and in the paranoid part of his brain, James could imagine that she was looking at the ceiling panels he and Steve had hidden the solar panel parts behind.

“Quite the relief, I would imagine, wouldn’t you?” she added, her eyes now looking back at Steve and James.

James’ jaw tightened and he said nothing, instead staring at Carter, wondering exactly _how much_ she knew.

He could feel Steve looking at him and it was hard to read the shorter man’s expression. Steve looked back at Carter and seemed about to say something when one of the crewmen stepped through the doorway that lead to the main cabin and called down to them.

“Captain,” the crewman said, looking down from the top of the stairs, “I searched the rest of the ship, I didn’t get any strange readings on the recorder.”

Carter glanced at Steve and James with a somewhat satisfied look, calling back to the crewman, “Thank you, Mr.Jones, I think we’ve done enough to indulge regulation. Please inform the rest of the crew,” she looked around the cargo bay, catching the attention of the GM officers who were working there, “I believe that we can let these gentlemen go on their way.”

“Yes, ma’am,” came the chorus from all around, and in a flurry of movement the green uniforms were packing up their equipment and leaving (and they really couldn’t leave fast enough, in James’ opinion, though he tried not to look too happy about it as they went.)

James smiled, dipping his head a little, “Well, Carter, it’s been fun catching up…” he nudged Steve a little and gestured for him to follow.

“Gentlemen,” Carter said, stopping both men in their tracks.

James turned around, raising an eyebrow, “What?”

She took a step closer, “I would highly recommend heading directly to the Rook system once you’ve… picked up your cargo.”

He nodded, glancing at Steve, “Of course, where else are we supposed to take it?”

“I don’t know. But the Galactic Military might.”

James stopped smiling. Swallowing, he said in a low tone, “They’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

Carter didn’t answer directly (which, in James’ experience with the GM, usually meant “yes”), instead she said, “You were caught smuggling and now you’re… here. It’s suspicious.”

He smirked, “And what’s so special about ‘here’, exactly?”

“That’s classified,” she said (and James thought she looked a little too pleased with that). She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small piece of paper, “Take this.”

James frowned, not taking the paper (he actually more likely glared at it), “What the hell is that?” he asked.

She continued offering the paper to him, “In case you get in over your head. Give me a call.”

James let out a loud snort, rolling his eyes, “In what universe is that _ever_ going to happen?”

Carter glanced at Steve, saying quietly, “The Galactic Military has been watching you. There were concerns about your safety.”

“ _My_ safety?” James said, snorting again. When Carter didn’t look amused, James let out a slow breath, his smile falling. He looked at Steve (who had been standing beside him looking lost for the past two minutes) and whispered, “Steve, can you give Captain Carter and I a moment?”

Steve frowned, turning to give James a disbelieving look. James smiled the tiniest bit, nodding reassuringly. 

“Um, yeah, sure…” Steve said slowly, walking away, toward the stairs.

James could tell he didn’t want to go, and, really, he couldn’t blame the guy. But this was just… 

About to get complicated. And possibly a little more “classified”.

James stepped closer to Carter, saying darkly, “The GM doesn’t want to protect me.” 

“Of course they do.” Carter said, “You were--”

James shook his head, “No. It’s not me they’re protecting, it’s their secrets.”

She looked him up and down, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I…” he sighed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, “You know what, I’m not even going to explain it. You probably already know about it, though,” he scoffed a little, “Let’s just say some of the missions they sent me on were of a _sensitive_ nature. I can tell you that much even with the ‘need-to-know’ policy they implemented,” he leaned in closer, “I didn’t see the whole picture, but it was enough.”

“And that’s why you left?” Carter asked.

He nodded, taking a couple steps back as he shrugged, “I didn’t know enough for them to kill me, but I kinda figured on being watched.”

She shook her head, “So you won’t even consider taking this?” she lifted the paper again.

James rolled his eyes, “Not on your life.”

“And what about Do’oridto’s life?

He stopped, staring at her. 

She raised her eyebrows at him, her gaze flickering for a moment over to the stairs where James knew Steve was sitting. Taking a couple steps to close the gap that James had created between them, Carter said in a low voice, “I know your track record of partnerships, Barnes,” she brushed a loose piece of hair out of her eyes, “and this one really does seem to like you.”

“What exactly are you suggesting, Carter?” James growled.

“You have a bad habit of getting yourself into situations where you risk your neck,” she offered the paper to him, “I’m giving you the option of not risking his, should you deem the danger too great.”

James stared at the paper, contemplating the offer for a moment. Not that he really had much of a choice. If there was something that could save Steve then… 

_Shit_.

He tightened his jaw as he took the paper, shoving it into his pocket quickly, his eyes tracing over the edges of the room to avoid Carter’s eyes.

She sighed (was that… relief?), “Thank you, James.”

James turned away, walking resolutely toward Steve without another word.

“We’ll be seeing you.” Carter said.

“Don’t hold your breath,” James growled under his breath, still refusing to look back.

Steve stood as James approached. “What was that about?” he asked.

James shook his head, finally turning around to watch Carter’s retreating back as she exited _Winter’s_ cargo bay with her crew. 

“Had to make a few things clear, is all,” James muttered. He hit the bay door control switch and didn’t bother waiting around to watch them close, he jogged his way up the steps toward the main cabin.

He just wanted to get moving again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Golly, you'll probably see me next month, gang. ;P That's assuming I stick with the approximate schedule I've been using so far.
> 
> I've been so encouraged by the responses I've gotten on this fic, I can't believe it went from a random one-shot to what it is now (like, holy crap, it's taking up 50 pages on my gdocs now??) and I'm just... I love you all. *-*  
> Thank you all for reading!! If you ever want to yell at me on tumblr, I've got the same url, "obscureenthusiast".


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and James have a bit of a talk, but mostly they go and party with a bunch of farmers. It's great fun, and, most importantly, there's shitty puns, they get paid, and there is DANCING (I mean, ok, Steve doesn't know how to dance, so there's just... other people who happen to be around dancing.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter tried to kill me and I'm so sorry it took so long to post like oh my gosh I'm so so so sorry I just ahhhhHH??? Life and everything got a little overwhelming, my work lost employees and I had to fill in, and my cosplay life got a little bit??? AHHHH??? I feel terribly because, like?? once a month updates are not a difficult thing at face value, it's literally, like, a minimum taxation on my creativity, that's a whole month to write ~5,000 words, so???  
> Anyway, after that STUNNING display of my ability to have a string of question marks at the end (and sometimes the middle) of literally every sentence, I present you with this murder-chapter. :P I hope you enjoy it.

“So, when were you planning on telling me?” 

Steve thought he could see every muscle across James’ back tighten. The smuggler wasn’t looking at him, he was prepping a section of rope to lower the solar panel parts down from the ceiling. Steve was sitting on the platform at the top of the stairs, his legs dangling down over the edge. 

They were safely landed on the moon now. And Steve wanted answers.

When James did finally look at him, his brow was furrowed and he could only meet Steve’s eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner, it’s just-”

“Yeah, you should have,” Steve said, setting his jaw and half-glaring down at the other man, “Were you _ever_ going to tell me?”

James sighed softly and looked down at the floor, rubbing a hand over his temples wearily, “It… I figured it was bound to come up eventually.”

“Well, you were right.” Steve said.

The smuggler looked up at Steve again, his eyes still apologetic as he explained, “I was a sergeant and I flew Howlers. Stealth missions, that sort of thing.”

“So that’s where the ship came from?” Steve asked, leaning forward with one eyebrow raised. He made sure to keep his tone dry.

James inhaled, nodding a little, “I fell in love with the way these ships handled,” he scoffed, “I probably stayed in service longer just because of that,” scratching at the back of his neck, he added slowly, “And even the name comes from some enlisted slang… when we’d see a soldier who felt homesick or like they needed to get out, we used to say that they had a case of mid-winter’s heart,” he shrugged, “It goes back to some old Earth stories about soldiers campaigning in the dead of winter.”

Steve nodded his understanding, saying quietly, “So you just… up and left? Decided they were the real bad guys and went to join the moral high ground with the rest of the smugglers?”

“No, no, I… I just,” James paused a moment, clearly struggling to find the right words, “I’m not saying that they’re _all_ bad. But…” he let out a breath, “everything I said to you when we first met… I believe all of that, ok? It wasn’t just something I said to get you to trust me. The GM can’t make a difference the same way some well-timed smuggling can. They’re fighting a war on a galactic level, it’s not for them to take care of every single person.”

“James, I understand, but,” Steve said slowly, picking his words carefully, “Why didn’t you just tell me? I mean, you _knew_ that I was trying to enlist. You could have told me the very first day we met!”

“I didn’t want to make you think I was just some guy who got kicked out and had a grudge!” James said, making a helpless motion with his hands, “Be honest with me, would it have made a difference?”

Steve shook his head, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

James sighed, his hands stopping their work on the section of rope as he looked up at Steve, “Well, the fact is, my experience with the military is _entirely_ different than yours.”

“What because you actually got in?” Steve couldn’t hold back the bitterness in his tone and he immediately regretted it. He saw James’ eyes grow wider, the smuggler’s jaw tightening.

“No,” James said quietly, “because they didn’t see you as anything. Because they don’t believe in anyone who’s not a… ‘perfect soldier’.”

“So am I your charity case?” Steve asked, his voice low as his eyes studied the scuffed metal railing he was leaning on. 

“I don’t make room on my ship for charity cases, Stevie,” James said smiling a little, “I make room for partners,” he hesitated a moment, then turned back to working on the rope section, adding, “Just because the GM couldn’t accept you as who you are doesn’t mean you were an act of charity. Quite the opposite, actually,” he glanced up, smile still turning his lips, “It’s their loss. I’d take you over the entire galactic fleet any day.”

This drew the tiniest of smiles from Steve. After a moment of quiet he finally asked, “So why _did_ you leave the GM?”

The smuggler shrugged, glancing up toward Steve (his eyes still wandered a bit, avoiding looking directly at him), “I said earlier that the Galactic Military and I have some bad memories together. I didn’t exactly leave on the best terms and… There are some complications.”

Steve frowned, “What kind of complications?”

James smiled ruefully, wincing a little as if the response he was about to give physically hurt him. He closed his eyes, saying, “The kind that are classified.”

“Ah,” Steve said quietly, looking James up and down.

James bent down to grab another section of rope off the floor, his eyes focusing on his work as he said, “The last mission I flew for them, I… had access to certain information. I saw some things that…”

He didn’t look up, but Steve could see one fist tighten around the rope until his knuckles bleached.

“Let’s just say I didn’t like what I saw,” James finished, his tone laced with forced normality.

Steve swallowed, “So… can you talk about any of it?”

James laughed bitterly, “I’m not sure I want to,” he said, then looked up, “I left that life behind, Steve.”

Steve wanted to point out that James clearly hadn’t. He had a military ship and a military name for that ship. Hell, he was carrying around classified information in his head.

Entering a war wasn’t something that a person just shook off. That sort of thing stuck with you and Steve could hardly blame James for just… coping.

Finally, James grabbed one of the ropes off the floor, “Here!” he called, tossing one end up to Steve, who caught it and stood up, reeling the rope up as he did.

“Just be careful, alright?” James said.

Steve smiled and grabbed the long, hooked pole leaning against the wall (it was usually hidden, strapped to the underside of the stairs so it looked like a support beam), “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” he said as he climbed onto the railing so that he was straddling it, using the pole to reach one of the ceiling panels, pushing it up and to the side. 

The panel slid smoothly out of the way, revealing the crate tucked back to the other side. He hooked the end of the pole onto the side of the crate and pulled it toward himself and the opening a little more (he had to lean almost his full weight backwards in order to make it move, but in the end it did shift enough for him to continue). 

Steve pulled the pole back, taking a moment to hook the rope that James had tossed to him onto the end. James had tied the end into a secure loop so it was easier to work with. Steve leaned back out again, his free hand gripping the top of the railing tightly as he got the end of the rope to loop over the top of the sort of harness he and James had tied tightly around the crate earlier. Once the end of the rope was under a strap of the harness, Steve got the pole through the loop and hooked onto the rest of the rope, carefully threading it through the loop so it couldn’t come loose.

“Watch your head,” he warned lightly as the full length of rope tumbled toward the ground, the top now tethered to the crate. Once more he hooked onto the rope, this time guiding it up to a large, sturdy section of bent pipe. He looped the rope over the pipe and then let the rest fall down to James, who was waiting to catch it.

James smiled, tugging at the rope experimentally, “Nice work, couldn’t have done it better myself,” he grabbed the second rope off the floor and tossed it up to Steve as he had with the first one, “Now we just need to pull it out until we can get the second one done, too.”

Steve sighed but nodded with a slight smile, “ _Great_ ,” he said, sarcasm overflowing, already a little out of breath from dragging the crate around. 

***

As the cargo bay doors of the ship opened, James glanced over at Steve, checking that the shorter alien was ready to go as they started walking down the ramp. They each carried a bag over their shoulder for supplies and, hopefully, by the time the deal was done, some money. As he lifted his end of the crate he was hyper-aware of the remaining tension between him and his partner.

James didn’t like not being able to tell Steve more about his time with the GM. He didn’t like having something that stuck so obviously between them. But…

It was safer this way.

Once at the bottom of the ramp, he set down his side of the crate, Steve following suit so that James would have his hands free to lock the cargo bay.

“Here,” James said, getting Steve’s attention and tossing him a communicator. 

Steve frowned, catching the device, “What’s this for?”

James shrugged, turning his attention to the door control panel on the underside of the ship, “In case we get separated, you can call me,” he said, “We’re on the same planet, so a voice message’ll get through.”

Steve nodded, tucking the communicator into his pocket, “Got it,” he said, letting out a short sigh.

“Not that you need to be worried about getting separated,” James amended quickly, when he glanced over and thought he saw the ghost of something like fear on Steve’s face.

Steve smiled a bit, the fear dissipating slightly as his bright blue eyes surveyed the moon’s surface. 

“I’m not worried, I’m just…” he paused, looking around, his eyes widening, “a little bit not sure what to expect.”

The doors started to close with a mechanical hissing and clanking. James looked back at Steve, the alien was still studying the planet with an excited gleam in his eyes. He let his gaze follow Steve’s in looking at the surrounding hills and distant mountain.

“I’ll be right here with ya, buddy, don’t even sweat it,” he said, almost absentmindedly as his eyes returned to take in the awed look on Steve’s face.

Steve smirked and looked back at James, “Just follow your lead, right?” he said, no small amount of sarcasm there.

James rolled his eyes and chuckled, shoving Steve a little, “Let’s get moving, punk.”

Ok, granted, “just follow my lead” hadn’t exactly worked last time but _this time_ it would. There would be no unexpected military problems here. 

The moon was a relatively small place, artificially terraformed to support farms with the aide of massive greenhouse buildings. Though James had never been to this specific moon, he had visited a few like it and was pretty familiar with the way things were generally run. He and Steve carried the crate between them and walked from the small airfield that they had docked at (nothing more than a large, flat, and paved area on the planet’s surface) to the nearest cluster of buildings, which mostly consisted of a refueling station and a few odd shops here and there.

Dugan had given them coordinates and the name of the town where the solar panel parts needed to go (someplace called “Acrine” a little bit north of the airfield) and the name of the woman they were supposed to talk to there (Maria Hill, who’d been described as “possibly the toughest farmer in the quadrant” and who apparently was the chosen leader of Acrine), so the hardest part was really just getting themselves a transport.

Which they did. Or, James did the finding, technically, but…

He glanced over at Steve, who didn’t look at all fazed by the fact that they were stuffed into the back of a truck alongside bags and bags of Tidhaen ox manure. Which wouldn’t be so bad if the back of the truck were open to the air. But it wasn’t. James could hardly keep a straight face from the stench of the stuff, it was… he guessed the best word was probably _ripe_ , which was not the most comforting of realizations.

They passed over a bump and, in trying to keep himself steady, James smacked his head against the inside wall of the truck. 

Steve, who had somehow squeezed his skinny frame into a secure crevice between two of the bags, looked up in alarm, “You ok?” he asked.

James rubbed the back of his head, but nodded, laughing a little as he said, “You know I’ve had some shitty rides in my life but this…”

Steve snorted, rolling his eyes, “You really couldn’t let that one pass by? Really?”

James smirked at the reaction he got, and couldn’t stop himself from replying quickly, “Listen, if you don’t like the jokes I make, maybe you should just _dump_ me.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head, “One more joke about shit and I will.”

James sighed loudly, “Fine, fine,” he said, still smiling, “I guess they are pretty bad. One could almost say…”

“Don’t.”

“Crappy.”

“ _Fuck you._ ”

James snorted and laughed harder, because despite his words, Steve was grinning, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he chuckled.

James leaned casually against one of the bags beside him and said, in a more serious tone, “But, really, I’m just glad it’s at least kinda soft. One time I had to catch a ride with a guy who was hauling nothing but a bunch of tree limbs and logs. But I guess I had no choice, I just really had to _leaf_.”

Steve groaned, looking upwards helplessly, “Stop, _please_ , I’m begging you.”

James bit back a chuckle and said quietly, “What? Don’t laugh, I was in a _sticky_ situation, I had to get out fast.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m not joking about this, Stevie, I tried to branch out for that mission, nearly ended up as plant food. It’s like they say…”

“What do they say?” Steve was looking at James flatly now, apparently having accepted his fate.

James’ smirk widened and he said, “Don’t go aspen for trouble, it’ll bite you in the ash.”

Steve closed his eyes, laughing and wincing at the same time, “ _I hate you_ ,” he repeated.

James laughed, “If I promise you that’s the last one, will you forgive me?”

Steve snorted and looked up, his blue eyes still sparking with laughter, “I mean, sure. Even though I know for damn sure it’s _not_ the last one.”

“I’m ‘fraid not,” James said smiling.

Steve rolled his eyes. James’ smile stayed in place until the truck shuddered to a stop at their destination. 

It wasn’t a big place, just a few dozen low buildings that looked all the same. In the center of all of them was a large, covered area filled with tables and benches, James guessed that was the main dining area. Currently there were only a few people there, a handful of kids of all species and ages running back and forth in some kind of game and a couple adults who were watching them.

Steve slid out of the truck to stand next to James, looking around. 

“Not so bad,” he said, as if reading James’ thoughts.

James glanced at Steve, taking a breath, “C’mon, let’s grab the crate.”

As they once again took the crate between the two of them, Steve turned his head to say a quick and sincere “Thank you!” to their driver.

James looked over to the main dining area, where the two adults who were watching the kids were now openly staring at him and Steve. He supposed it was probably odd to get off-worlders visiting. He glanced at Steve and tilted his head toward the dining area without looking directly at the people there, “What do you say we go see if those folks know where to find Maria Hill?”

Steve shifted his eyes to look toward the dining area, then shrugged, “Let’s go.”

***

Hill was younger than Dum Dum’s description had led Steve to believe, though that was the only discrepancy that Steve could find. She was, in every way, the “toughest farmer in the quadrant”, and Steve was _almost_ relieved that James was doing most of the talking. 

She raised an eyebrow at James, her tone quick and cold, “So you’ve got the parts we need. You know we need them and you know we can’t get them anywhere else,” she glanced between Steve and James, “Cut to the point, how much are you asking for them?”

James bit his lip in thought and Steve could see him calculating. 

“I’m willing to let them go for twenty six thousand,” the smuggler said.

Maria made a short, “Huh,” sound, as if this price was only mildly interesting. She narrowed her eyes at him, “And if I told you I could only pay twenty five?”

James crossed his arms, “I’d be willing to consider it if you give me a good reason to.”

She swallowed and looked down at the table. “You’re probably going to assume I’m lying when I say that the people in this town have donated everything they can survive without and it only adds up to barely that much,” she looked up to meet James’ eyes levelly, adding, “I could scrounge up the last thousand, but people are gonna start going hungrier than they are already. Or I’d be in debt to…” she hesitated a moment, then said, with a bitter smile, “a certain unsavory group we’ve been working _very_ hard to keep out.”

James frowned, his crossed arms loosening, “Hydra?”

Hill shrugged, “From time to time. They’ve got the mainworld by the short ones, and every now and then they come around here looking for trouble.”

“And do they find any?” Steve blurted out, without thinking. 

Maria looked at him with a small, self-satisfied smirk, “Here? They’ll find plenty of it,” she glanced at James, saying, with less self-satisfaction, “They mostly try recruiting, maybe a little pillaging.”

“Rough stuff,” James said quietly.

Maria shrugged, “People around here are used to rough. And Hydra hasn’t found any friends here in Acrine, that’s for damn sure,” she blinked and took a deep breath, “But we _are_ in a rough spot for other reasons. We haven’t had running water for weeks, least not anything consistent. We’ve got a few generators around, but fuel is expensive. Most folks haven’t had any lights or heat.”

James took a breath in, nodding a little bit.

Steve looked at James just as James’ eyes flickered over to meet his. James raised an eyebrow ever-so-slightly, as if to ask Steve what he thought. Steve furrowed his brow and nodded barely. He trusted her. How could he not? There were people out here who… _needed_ help, that much was clear.

James smiled, nodding in return and looking at Maria, “Twenty five it is, Hill.”

She smiled, genuinely, for the first time since they had started talking, “Thank you both,” she glanced between Steve and James and added, “You’re welcome to stay for dinner. Once the power comes back on, I’m willing to bet on there being some kind of celebration,” she shrugged, “Assuming you gentlemen have nowhere to be, it’s sure to be a good time.”

James once again glanced at Steve. And Steve raised his eyebrows, shrugging, “It’s fine with me,” he said quietly.

The smuggler nodded, “Sounds like we’re staying,” he looked back at Maria and added, “Provided we can get transport back to our ship?”

Maria laughed, crossing her arms with a nod, “I think that can be arranged, I’ll even drive you myself, if it comes to that.”

Maria turned and said something in an unknown dialect to one of the two big, tough-looking farmers who, for the duration of their meeting, had been standing near the door. Steve supposed that they were the closest thing to security detail that Maria could ask for, in case the blaster holstered casually at her hip wasn’t enough to deter him and James from making any moves against her. The burly farmer nodded to her, then turned on his heel to stride quickly out the door.

She looked back at James and Steve and said, in Basic this time, “You’ll have your money shortly. Can I offer you something to drink?”

James smirked, shaking his head, “None for me, I only ever make deals while sober.”

Maria laughed a little, nodding, “Fair enough. Water, then?”

Steve frowned, “I…” he paused a moment when both James and Maria turned to look at him (he was acutely aware at that point that he was the shortest in the room), then blurted out a quick, “I mean, if it’s no trouble. You mentioned you didn’t have any running water.”

If anything, Maria looked surprised at Steve’s statement, though not ungrateful. “We have some canisters of drinking water we’ve collected from the well,” she said, “It’s not impossible to get to, it’s just more labor.”

Steve nodded his understanding, “Right, yeah, of course,” he said, while Maria turned away to walk across the room to the small sink unit. He noticed now that there was a large canister sitting on a low stool next to the sink. 

Maria opened a cupboard above the sink and grabbed some glasses out, saying over her shoulder, “It’s not been easy, but we’re getting by,” she bent down to fill one of the glasses, then turned around to hold the glass out. Steve stepped forward and took it from her, and she turned around, filling a second glass as she continued, “When the solar panels first busted I took a trip to the mainworld to see if I could find anything, Talked to a lot of different folks,” she passed the second glass to James, “Hydra offered to get me those parts for half the price.”

James’ eyebrows shot upwards, “Why didn’t you take it?”

Maria stood up, taking a slow sip from her glass as she turned to look at James and Steve, “I have no interest in taking anything from them. They’re just…” her eyes shifted down to study her water glass thoughtfully.

“Bullies?” Steve offered. 

She smiled a little, “To put it lightly.” At the sound of movement outside, Maria stood up straighter and nodded toward the door, “Your money’s here.”

Steve turned around to look and sure enough the burly looking farmer was back, and carrying with him a rather dusty looking… was that one of the bags used for manure? 

Maria walked over and took the bag from the man, “Thanks, Brai. Grab the parts and take them out to the solar field, I had Bert and Alia head out there to prep the repair team, they should be ready by now.”

Brai nodded once and grabbed the crate off of the floor beside the table. Maria looked back at James and Steve and dumped the contents of the bag onto the table. 

While she started counting it out for them, Steve frowned, looking at the bag.

Having spent the entire morning in a truck full of bags just like it, he could confirm that it had, in fact, once been filled with manure. He wrinkled his nose a little, wondering (only half-jokingly) if he was ever going to get away from that smell.

Maria, noticing the short alien staring at the bag, smirked, “You’ll never find a bank so strong as the one buried under a pile of shit,” she said, passing a large stack of money over to James, adding, “That should be all of it.”

James flipped through the stack, Steve could see his mouth moving almost imperceptibly as he counted. Then he nodded with satisfaction and passed a large chunk of the stack over to Steve, muttering a quick, “There ya go, bud.”

Steve stuffed the money into his bag, not bothering to count it, though his eyes lingered over it for longer than he meant to. He had never held onto that much cash in his entire life. 

“Oh, Hill, I meant to ask,” James was saying, pulling Steve’s attention back to their present situation, “is there any place around here where we can buy some… plants and seeds?”

Maria snorted, “I didn’t take you two for the farming sort, but there’s the greenhouse nearby. I’m sure the foreman there would be willing to sell you some.”

“Is it within walking distance?” James asked.

She shrugged, “Sure, just about everybody who lives here works over there. It’s only a couple miles, but I could drive you over,” she paused a moment before asking, “Why?”

James smiled, looking down at the ground, then glancing at Steve for a moment, “We…” he said slowly.

“We may or may not have lied to the GM to make them think we were just here to pick up some goods,” Steve said quietly.

Maria’s eyebrows raised slowly as she looked between the two of them. “I see,” she said, the hint of an amused smile turning her lips upward. She cleared her throat a little, sobering, “I could always drive out there for you, the foreman knows me and knows I won’t take any bullshit prices. I can bring some back for you. You two can stick around here. Eat some food, relax, do some dancing, it’ll be fun.”

James shook his head firmly, “If you don’t mind, Hill, we would prefer to go along.”

“Of course,” she said, glancing quickly at her watch, “I’m free right now. The repair team knows how to contact me if they need help.”

After a quick glance at Steve (to which Steve quickly nodded his agreement), James set his glass down on the table and waved a hand at the door, “Lead the way.”

By the time they returned from the greenhouse (with four crates, each filled with around five dozen plant sprouts, and six big bags filled with seed capsules), the town of Acrine was filled with light and the sounds of people bustling. 

Maria’s face lit up as she parked the truck, saying, “Well, looks like they got the solar panels working again.” 

Steve was stuffed between her and James (a position which had led to a lot of jostling and bumping elbows as they drove the rough dirt road there and back), and as Maria climbed out he leaned into James to give her enough space.

James smirked, whispering with a chuckle, “Maybe you shoulda been sitting on my lap.”

Steve snorted as James opened his door and stepped out. Maria was already a few yards away, talking with a group of other farmers, but James stood by the truck, holding the door until Steve had climbed out himself. 

There was music playing from somewhere, Steve couldn't trace the source, but it was lively and fast, accompanied by a lot of clapping and stomping. The rich scent of cooking wafted through the air to where they stood, making Steve’s mouth water.

He’d had nothing but freeze-dried protein packs since boarding _Winter_ , and was more than ready for some real food.

James grinned widely and tossed an arm around Steve's shoulders, saying, “Let's go party, then.”

***

“So, you're telling me,” James said slowly, passing a glass of some dark, heady wine to Steve, “that you have _no_ idea how to dance?”

Steve took the glass, chuckling and rolling his eyes, “I… I've never had the chance.” 

“What, they don't dance where you come from?” James asked, eyebrows raised.

Steve's chuckle turned into a full laugh as he shook his head, “No, no, they do it’s just…” he ducked his head a bit, blushing slightly red, “girls don't want to dance with a guy they might step on.”

James scoffed, “Oh, come on, Steve.”

“I mean it!” Steve said, giving James a serious look, “You saw that… that _giant_ guy in the cafe? The day we first met?”

“Well, yeah, I saw him,” James conceded.

Steve shook his head, “When every other member of your species looks like _that_ , and you look like,” he snorted, “well, _me_ , it doesn’t exactly set you up to be a real popular guy.”

James bit his lip, physically holding back the statement he wanted to make about Steve’s appearance, instead choosing to clap the shorter alien on the shoulder and say, “Don’t be so tough on yourself, Stevie,” he glanced around, shrugging, “Maybe your luck’s changing.”

He could see Steve roll his eyes a little, though he didn’t say anything. James took a swig of the wine ( _damn_ these farmers knew how to make a good drink) and spotted Maria Hill walking toward them through a crowd of dancers (the very same dancers who had set off this train of conversation). He smiled and waved to her as she neared.

“Well, Hill, you weren’t lying,” James said, as she came to stop in front of them, “this is quite the celebration.”

She smiled, “We don’t often get the chance to relax for a night, but when we do it’s a shindig.”

“That a proper farming term? Shindig?” Steve joked, raising an eyebrow.

Hill laughed, nodding, “That _is_ the proper farming term, yes.” She glanced between Steve and James a moment, her expression growing slightly more serious, before adding in a low voice, “I have a question for you both. And I want an honest answer, though you’re hardly required to give one.”

James looked around. Everyone seemed to be focusing on the dancing and the drinking, not on them or their conversation. It helped that the night was growing late and many people were already too drunk to care.

The shock of seeing off-worlders had quickly subsided as Hill had apparently spread the word that they were just “traders”, in addition to some phony story about them receiving the solar panel parts from a more… reputable source.

James looked first at Steve (who was looking at him already), then at Hill, eyebrows raised, “What do you wanna know?”

She let out a long breath, speaking in a deliberate, careful tone, “When this whole power outage started, after I realized that official channels were useless, I headed to the mainworld to try to find some help,” she looked at James, “There was a woman there who told me what channels to go through. Who to talk to to find myself a smuggler who would do the job cheap.”

James had a dark feeling that he knew where this was going, but he nodded for Hill to continue. Steve was standing next to him frowning.

“This woman, she said that you were trustworthy, and if I could get my offer advertised on the correct comm circle that you were sure to get it, she never really explained how or why but,” Hill shrugged, “I guess it worked, so I’m not gonna ask any questions,” she paused a moment, then said, her tone darker, “ _but_ … the thing is…” she inhaled and glanced once more between James and Steve, “this woman. She was an assassin. Highest quality, from what I’ve been told. So, all I want to know is--”

“You wanna know why us better-than-bad guys have a worst-of-the-bad gal recommending us?” James finished quietly. 

Hill’s lips curved in a slight, amused smile, “To put it simply, yeah.”

James could feel Steve staring at him, and now Hill’s attention was entirely on him, as well. He took a sip from his drink and said, in a tone he hoped would imply that he didn’t welcome any more questions after this, “She’s an old friend. We parted ways a while back, I didn’t much agree with her… methods.”

For a moment there was silence from both Steve and Hill. Both seemed to understand James’ tone and left the subject alone. James took another long swig from his glass, his eyes flickering over to look at Steve.

Hill was the first to break the silence, addressing Steve with a smile, “So how the _hell_ did you end up with him?” she asked, nodding toward James.

Steve frowned, “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Hill said, laughing, looking James up and down, “He’s classic smuggler material. The cocky grin, the devil-may-care attitude, even the gun belt that’s just a _little_ too loose so his blaster swings a little bit sideways down his hip.”

James blinked, looking down at himself. Of course he wore his holster belt like this, it was more comfortable, dammit.

Steve snorted, glancing at James before adding quickly, “Don’t forget the walk.”

Hill laughed, “Oh, no, we can’t forget the smuggler walk.”

James rolled his eyes, “Now you’re both just making things up.”

“ _Regardless_ ,” Hill said, still smiling and now looking Steve up and down, “you don’t have any of that, Rogers, so I’m just kinda curious what possessed you to team up.”

Steve blushed a little, shrugging, “I don’t know,” his eyes shifted to look at James, “just got lucky, I guess.”

James hid his grin behind another long drink. 

The wine was good. The company was good. He had gotten paid today. The GM hadn’t found his smuggled goods.

Steve was smiling.

There were a lot of reasons to grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! It was an absolute PAIN IN THE ASS to write, and I don't even know why. I got kinda burnt out part of the way through it but once I started back up with writing it everything flowed more or less smoothly. I'm just sorry that I couldn't find any inspiration to finish it in time for last month's update. :/ I hope that with this chapter I can get back on track with the "once a month update" thing but, honestly, if this has taught us anything it's that I AM LITERALLY THE WORST AT SCHEDULES AHAHAHAHAA... I'm truly sorry, readers. Hopefully I can make it up to you with the next chapter (~~someone's mom is gonna be there and I'm very excited for her appearance, it was one of the first scenes I imagined when I started running scenarios for this AU ^_^ ~~).


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Steve get a fancy fancy dinner invitation from someone EXTREMELY special, also there's a lot more flirting my GODS could these boys be any more oblivious to one another? This chapter is pretty much 96.5% fluff lmao.
> 
> (aka, this author is a HUGE fan of fluffy domestic style shit and you know what I'm just going to keep helplessly self-indulging my favorite tropes as much as I want to because eventually this fic is gonna get SAD and I need as much happy as possible before that happens because I love suffering :'D)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh. Oh goSH. HEY LOOK, I DID GET THIS UPDATE IN *TeChNiCaLly* within the parameters of my """schedule""" :'D AND it's even of SIGNIFICANT length, topping out at nearly 6,250?
> 
> Enjoy some fluff for all your troubles, folks!!

“Ok, ok, that’s good, now just…” James nodded at one of the flight controls, “nudge that lever up just a little bit.”

Steve, his bright blue eyes concentrating on the viewscreen ahead, nodded almost imperceptibly and reached for the control, carefully moving the lever as instructed.

They had swapped seats, at James’ insistence, upon leaving the Baarocki system (which had gone _much_ better than the last take-off, no throwing up or anything, although Steve had been looking the _tiniest_ bit green). He wanted to give Steve a lesson.

James grinned, “See, you got it now,” he said, then pointed at a different control lever, saying, “If you wanna go a little faster you just bump that one up a bit.”

Steve laughed nervously, not tearing his eyes away from the front screen, “I think I’m ok for now,” he said, than added in a low voice, “Still not sure why you want to teach flying to the guy who lost his lunch the first time you took off with him, but thanks for the lesson.”

James shrugged, even though Steve couldn’t see him (he was too nervous to take his eyes away from the front viewscreen, even though there was nothing there except a vast blackness of distant stars). 

“Being a passenger is one thing,” James said, “but controlling a ship is another. You call the shots, so you can prepare yourself for what’s about to happen, rather than just… hanging on and hoping you don’t die.”

“I guess that makes sense…” Steve muttered, shifting the controls very slightly, as if to test the way the ship would respond.

James smiled, biting his lip as he watched. Steve was getting more comfortable in the pilot’s chair; he even reached over and moved the lever which controlled the ship’s speed up another notch. 

“So, we’re heading to the fourth planet in the Rook system,” James said, hoping that a little conversation might relax Steve a little bit more, “is that close to home for you?”

Steve smiled, his eyebrows arching as he said, “Try really close. The coordinates I gave you are for my home town.”

“Oh? Does this mean I get to meet all your old girlfriends?” James teased.

Steve scoffed and for a moment James thought he would actually look away from the front viewscreen. He didn’t, though, only laughed and said, “Hardly.”

James shrugged, his eyebrows darting up, “Old boyfriends?” Because he had _no_ obvious ulterior motives with that question. (He winced internally because “ _Barnes, you fuckin idiot, try being more obvious._ ”)

“None of those, either,” Steve said, still laughing as he shook his head, “Like I said, I wasn’t the popular type.”

“Well, c’mon, you gotta have _someone_ worth visiting, right?” James asked. 

Steve finally shifted his gaze away from empty space to look at James, quietly conceding, “There is… I mean, my mom still lives there.”

James stared at Steve, “You never told me…” he began slowly, trailing off as Steve shrugged and looked back at the main screen.

“It didn’t seem important.”

James was still staring at Steve in surprise, trying to pick through what he should say. “Do you,” he cleared his throat, then said, in his best “nonchalant” tone, “I mean, are you and her on good terms, or…?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve answered quickly, nodding firmly with a smile, “I love her, absolutely. Talk to her all the time.”

James’ eyebrows knit together and he said, “Have you talked to her since you boarded _Winter_?”

“Well, I mean…” Steve blushed, his eyes facing resolutely forward.

“Did you at least tell her you were boarding _Winter_?”

“Yes, yes, I did, I mean,” Steve’s blush deepened, “I called. She wasn’t there to pick up so I left a… recording.”

James crossed his arms, “You told her everything in a _recording_?”

Steve stammered a little and said quietly, “Well, I, um, I,” he coughed, “I may have left out a few minor details.”

“Like what?”

“The… meeting you in an alleyway,” Steve said, then added, in a much quieter tone, “and I may have slightly glossed over the part about you being a smuggler.”

“You _what_?” James’ eyebrows shot upwards.

Steve shrugged, sighing, “Look, I didn’t have time to explain the fact that you were any different from the rest, hell, _I_ didn’t have anything but your word to go on at that point and I just,” he shrugged again, a helpless sort of gesture, “I didn’t want to worry her.”

James let out a breath, then got calmly to his feet, leaning across the cockpit (directly in front of Steve) to flip a few control switches.

Steve sat back as far as he could, frowning at James’ sudden intrusion into his space, “What are you-”

“I’m turning the autopilot back on,” James said matter-of-factly. 

“What? Why?” Steve asked, incredulous.

James, still leaning between Steve and the controls, turned his head to lock eyes with the small alien, saying, “Because you’re gonna call your mom.”

“ _Now_?”

“Right now.”

Steve laughed, “You don’t need to do this, I-”

“Yes, actually, I do,” James said, flipping one last switch before moving out of Steve’s way, “She’s got a right to know, don’t you think?”

Steve sighed heavily, “I mean, yeah.”

“Great,” James said, smiling, he gestured to a control pad to Steve’s left, “the transmitter control is there. Usual setup, just input the codes.” 

As Steve turned (maybe a little hesitantly?) to the transmitter control, James got to his feet. He clapped Steve on the shoulder before descending down the steps.

Steve turned around, “Where the hell are you going?”

James turned around, though he continued walking backwards away from Steve. Raising his hands in a surrender-like gesture, he said, “I’m heading down to the cargo bay to get some exercise.”

Steve snorted, “You’re running away.”

James scoffed, “I don’t know what you mean.” He was already halfway through the door that lead to the next passageway, though he paused in his retreat to say, “In case she’s wondering, though, you can let her know that we’ll be landing in a few hours,” he ducked through the door the rest of the way, calling over his shoulder, “Good luck, bud!”

He thought he could hear Steve snort at him again. “Yeah, sure, thanks!” the alien yelled at his retreating back.

James chuckled, shaking his head a little. He certainly didn’t envy Steve the task of explaining all of this to his mother.

***

Steve exhaled a long breath before pressing the “call” button. He honestly wasn’t sure whether he was hoping for an answer or not… 

The black screen stared back at him, a small tone _pinged_ to let him know that the transmission was being sent while white lines of codes flashed across the screen, denoting the satellites and stations the signal was being passed through. 

Finally, after a tense couple of minutes, the transmission got through one of the Rooklin satellites. The screen went dark and the tone changed from a _ping_ to a ring. Steve held his breath.

Suddenly, the screen changed to show a woman with dark reddish-pink skin that matched Steve's almost exactly, her hair pulled back out of her face, revealing the pointed tips of her ears. 

And she looked furious.

“Mom, I-” Steve started to say “I can explain”, but she quickly interrupted him.

“ _Do’oridto Roge’ehrs, vexhem’nt chucrah da tresmn,_ where the _hell_ have you been?” Sah’rea Roge’ehrs started her lecture right off with a long string of disappointed explatives, then jumped right in to the point, “For _a week_ , son, for _over a week_ I've been waiting for a transmission from you.”

Steve winced, “Mom, I know you're angry, but-”

“ _Angry_?!” Sah’rea stared hot coals through the screen and straight into Steve (forcing his hot embarrassment even hotter), “ _Hue’et tinnea,_ I've been _worried sick_. You left me nothing but a _vague_ recording about how you'd found a new job on a starship, that you were leaving the planet, and that you'd contact me once you got off-world,” she shook her head, scoffing, “I was one or two days away from calling the police, you know that?”

Steve, nodding a little and _hoping_ that she was finished yelling enough for him to explain, muttered, “I'm so so sorry, mom, I… I shouldn't have treated you like that. I just didn't want you to worry.”

His mom said nothing, but her eyebrows shot upwards and Steve could practically _feel_ the sarcastic remark she wanted to make.

Steve sighed, making the sarcastic remark for her with a muttered, “And you can see how that plan turned out…”

Sah’rea’s eyebrows crept up even further, “So, if you gave me so little information in an attempt not to worry me… what is it you didn't want me to know?”

Steve froze, taking a deep breath. _Here goes nothing._

_“Do’oridto,_ ” his mother said, looking worried, “ _ha tuh’reat foe tatahl?” (_ roughly translated, “ _are you in danger?_ ”.)

He shook his head, “ _Broa,_ no, I'm safe,” he said gently, “I'm on a ship, like I said in my last message. I've been traveling.” 

“Doing what?” the hint of severity was back in her tone, now, as she narrowed her eyes at him. 

Steve exhaled, “So, um, you see,” he paused (his mother let out a terse breath, a subtle hint that she was bracing herself for the worst), “I'm with this guy, James. He's the human I mentioned in my message, he asked me to become a sort of… business partner?”

Sah’rea raised a critical eyebrow, “And what business is that?”

“Umm… smuggling?” Steve closed his eyes as he released the hasty word into the air.

“ _Smuggling_ ,” she repeated the word back like it was acid on her tongue, and Steve winced at the tone.

“It's not what you think, mom,” Steve said, trying for a calming tone, “He's different, he actually wants to help!” Before he could even finish the sentence, his mom was speaking.

“ _Vexhem’nt hue’et cun shafr’fec!”_ Sah’rea practically _growled_ , muttering vehemently under her breath (and Steve winced again, taken aback by the expletives his mom was dealing out).

“ _Deda,_ ” Steve said (a very affectionate Rooklin term for “mother”), “I'm fine. I'm safe. James isn't the bad guy here,” Steve gave her a tiny smile, “I'm… really happy.”

She looked at him for a moment, studying his face closely, “He is a smuggler. _You_ are a smuggler now, is what you’re saying?”

Steve sighed, nodding, “Well… yeah.”

“I raised you better than that,” she said, though there was a lack of fire in the delivery of it, as if she was trying her best to accept that she could do little to change his current status. 

“No, you raised me to help people,” Steve said, “and you raised me to always stand up for myself and others,” he smiled, shrugging, “ _deda,_ you raised me to be moral and tough and kind and,” he shrugged, lacking the right words.

Sah’rea shook her head, “Are you trying to say that I raised a smuggler?”

“Well, it seems like you have, whether you meant to or not,” Steve chuckled.

His mom was less amused, looking at him with a flat expression, “But what about the Galactic Military? All those plans you had to join them?”

Steve sighed, “You know I would never have gotten in. Besides,” he snorted, “you never wanted me to enlist in the first place!”

She gave him a sour expression, “It would be better than teaming up with a _smuggler_.”

“We just dropped off parts that gave an entire town electricity for the first time in weeks,” Steve said firmly, “They had no running water, no lights, _nothing_.”

“And did you ask where the parts came from in the first place?” she asked, “Why did they need smugglers to help with that in the first place?”

“ _Hydra_ had the main planet in the system under siege, they had no choice but to ask for help,” Steve explained quickly.

Sah’rea blinked, exhaling slowly, “I’m going to ignore the fact that you willingly went into Hyrda-controlled space-”

“-it was just a little farming moon!”

“-and ask again: where did the parts come from? Did you steal them?”

“No!” Steve said, “We bought them off some guy.”

“Did _he_ steal them?”

Steve rubbed his hands wearily over his eyes, muttering, “Kinda sorta maybe, it’s…” he shrugged, “it’s all very gray area, frankly, I’m not sure the parts ever existed, according to all the paperwork.”

“But they _did_ exist, Do’oridto!” his mom pointed out roughly, “They existed and they had to have belonged to _someone_ who paid for them, right?” she raised her eyebrows at him, “Things don’t just stop existing because it’s more convenient. Someone along the way had something _stolen_ from them.”

Steve sighed heavily and looked away.

“Son,” Sah’rea said gently, “ _please_ , don’t try to live your life in ‘gray area’.”

He shook his head, “I’m not, mom,” he said, “I’m using the gray area to help people. That’s not gray, it’s just the right thing to do.”

“The ends justify the means, then?” she asked, and although her tone was still gentle, there was a hidden sharpness to the question.

Steve sighed again, saying, “If people are hurting, if they’re in need then… I can’t just sit by and wait. Not when I know I can help them. Even if it means venturing a little bit into the ‘gray’.”

His mom hesitated a moment, then let out a short, resigned sigh. “I swear, your father must be singing in the afterlife, you sound just like him.”

Steve smiled a little, laughing.

“But,” Sah’rea added, holding up a single, warning finger, “just because I accept your decision doesn’t mean I have to be entirely happy that you’re gallivanting the stars with some _smuggler_ ,” her eyes narrowed curiously, “Where is he, anyway?”

“Ah, well,” Steve said, glancing behind himself, at the doorway James had vanished through, “he’s, uh, down in the cargo bay,” he looked back at his mom with a cheeky grin, “I think he was scared of you.”

“Good,” she said, with a satisfied smirk, “he ought to be.”

Steve laughed, “I could go grab him now but there’s not really any point. You’ll be meeting him pretty soon.”

His mom blinked in surprise, “Oh?”

“We’re landing in a few hours,” Steve grinned.

Her eyes widened, “ _Here_?” when Steve nodded enthusiastically, she blinked once and clarified, “As in, here in town, _here_?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling widely, “we’ve got a few things to sell.”

“Stolen things?” Sah’rea narrowed her eyes in suspicion, pursing her lips sourly.

“No, mom,” Steve sighed, “these ones we got honestly,” for a moment his mom looked satisfied with this, but then Steve’s big mouth continued, “because we had to throw the GM off our tail.”

Sah’rea sighed loudly, a few Rooklin expletives slipping out as she rubbed her temples wearily.

Steve chuckled a little, but said, “Sorry, I’ll… I’ll leave that part out next time.”

She shook her head, “Please. I’m thinking that the less I know the better it will be for both of us,” she glanced to one side, at something Steve couldn’t see in his limited view of her room, and sighed, “I have to go, I’ve got a shift at the hospital,” she smiled, adding, “We _will_ talk more when you get here. Tell ‘James’ to clean himself up for dinner, I don’t want any greasy smugglers at my table.”

Steve nodded solemnly, “Yes, ma’am, only clean smugglers.”

Sah’rea smiled at that, “ _Kharth’ge, Do’oridto_.”

“ _Kharth’ge, deda_ , love you, mom.”

The screen went black and Steve exhaled loudly, switching the transmitter off and stretching as he got up from the pilot’s chair. He mulled over everything his mom had said, every reaction she had.

Of course, it could have gone better. But it certainly hadn’t gone as badly as he had feared.

Steve walked into the cargo bay and leaned on the railing of the upper landing. James looked up almost instantly, catching the ball he had been bouncing against the far wall and stopping in his tracks.

“Well?” he asked.

Steve shrugged, smiling slightly, “She wants us to come over for dinner.”

James raised his eyebrows, “Well, that’s good!” he paused, frowning, “It… it _is_ good, right?”

Steve chuckled, shrugging again, “Ask me again in a few hours,” he nodded down at James, adding, “She said to make sure you cleaned up because she doesn’t want a ‘greasy smuggler’ in her house.”

“That’s her description of me, not yours, I hope?” James teased.

Steve laughed, “Oh, that was _all_ her.”

James sighed, tossing the ball back into its storage bin as he walked to the stairs, “So besides calling me greasy, how did she seem to take the news?”

“Well,” Steve said, sitting down on the top step, “she’s unhappy, but willing to go along with it just because she knows I’m not going to be changing my mind.”

James tromped up the steps, nodding. As he reached the top, he stopped and sat down next to Steve, “Great,” he said, “I’m sure she’ll _love_ me.”

Steve chuckled, looking down at his hands, “You’ll be fine. Once she meets you she’ll come around.”

“Well, another few hours and we’ll know, right?” James snorted, “You know, I always hated waiting.”

Steve laughed, glancing over to look at James, surprised to see that the smuggler was already looking at him, “We survived Carter, I’m sure we can survive my mother.”

James winked, slapping Steve on the back good-naturedly, “With you, Stevie, I’ll survive anything.”

Steve snorted, grinning as he rolled his eyes, “It’s a little early to be making declarations like that, don’tcha think? I’ve known you a week and a half.”

James shrugged, smiling, “I don’t know. I feel like… I think some people just get it. Or… get other people, if that makes any sense. And I feel like,” he shrugged again, “you’re one of those people who gets me.”

Something odd hit Steve and his brows furrowed just the slightest bit, though his smile stayed in place. Perhaps it was James’ sincerity and the small contented smile that curved his lips, maybe it was his wording and tone, but something forced a sudden, ridiculous idea into Steve’s mind. A concept familiar enough to have a word, a name… 

_Bucky_.

“That inexplicable feeling that you’ve met before when you haven’t…” Steve murmured.

James nodded, grinning, “Yeah, something like that. Like,” he paused, his eyes looking distantly around the cargo bay as he tried to come up with the right words, “sometimes you meet someone and you can’t say why, but… you know you were _meant_ to meet them, y’know?” his eyes flickered over to meet Steve’s.

Steve’s smile had faded into a thoughtful expression, but he gave James a small nod, “Yeah,” he said quietly, with the hint of a smile, “I know what you mean.”

James’ grin widened and he clapped Steve on the shoulder again, saying, “Anyway, now that you’re finished, I gotta go use the transmitter. Make a few calls to the buyers down on the planet, see if anybody wants some seeds and shit.”

Steve nodded, forcing out a small chuckle, “Yeah, you go on ahead, I’m gonna try to get some exercise.”

James hopped to his feet and turned away, disappearing cheerily down the corridor, leaving Steve sitting on the steps, still deep in thought.

He sighed heavily, “Get ahold of yourself,” he muttered as he clambered to his feet, plodding heavily down the steps, “it’s not like humans have the same ideas the Am’ric do about…” he faded off as he grabbed the ball out of its basket. 

But in his mind the unspoken word lingered like an afterimage behind his eyelids. 

_Like a soulmate, but not quite._

He threw the ball as hard as he could at the floor a few feet away, watching with satisfaction as it bounced off the wall and arced back to him. Catching it (a rare occasion in itself, usually he ended up dropping it), he repositioned and threw the ball again.

It wasn’t like James had _meant_ any of it in a romantic way. Steve was just… overthinking it. Humans were different.

***

Although James wasn’t _entirely_ able to find a buyer (and by “wasn’t entirely able” he of course meant “failed miserably”), he had learned that there was an open merchant market in the town, and had set about immediately resetting their landing pattern so that they would be right in the thick of it.

Merchant markets were a sort of free-for-all when it came to buying and selling, with ships landing and selling things straight out of their cargo holds. Of course, there was very little regulation in these markets (making them _prime_ ground for the less specialized smugglers to hawk stuff on the sly), and every day there were different ships and products. The downside was that you could never tell what kind of prices you’d be getting; the place was rife with hagglers. With little to no regulations, a seller was pretty much on their own.

James _hoped_ that they could sell their cargo quickly and get on with their lives. Carter’s not-so-vague threat about the GM watching them still crawled under his skin uncomfortably. The paper with her contact information on it was tucked away in his bunk for safekeeping, though every time he looked at it he had the urge to rip it up. 

Of course, once they landed (one shower later, James would have it noted, because he’d be damned before Mrs.Rogers could have any chance to call him “greasy”), James looked out the front viewport, down at the crowd below. He let out a low whistle.

The majority of the beings below were like Steve, skin tones ranging from the rosy pale pink shade which Steve sported to a deep blood-red. Many (mostly the tallest males, James noted) had dark tattoos covering large portions of their bodies. Some of them were wearing armor, James couldn’t tell from here whether the armor was decorative or if they were some kind of police or security force. 

He glanced at Steve, “You ready?”

Steve shrugged, staring down at the street, “As I’ll ever be.”

James laughed as he got out of his seat, jogging down the stairs to his bunk, “The feeling’s mutual, bud,” he said, as he grabbed his jacket.

Steve followed him, a little more slowly and James got the feeling that he was bracing himself for the worst.

Though what exactly “the worst” entailed, James was a little worried to ask.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked tentatively, while double checking that his blaster was in place.

Steve smiled and shrugged, “It’s… kind of strange to be back here again.”

“Well,” James said, tucking his communicator into his pocket, “if it helps any, we can avoid alleyways,” when Steve let out a surprised start of laughter, James looked up with eyebrows raised in mock inquiry, “that’s… that’s usually where you fight the really big ugly guys, right?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I’ve clearly told you too many alleyway fight stories.”

James pulled a face, teasing, “Ummm, seeing as I _found_ you fighting in an alleyway, I am almost convinced that was all you ever did before I came along.”

“Well, you’re not entirely wrong,” Steve chuckled.

“That’s why I’m here though, right? Keep you from doing anything stupid without me?” James opened the door to the corridor, holding it for Steve.

Steve snorted as he passed, muttering, “Right, we gotta stick together and do the stupid stuff together.”

James nodded with a short laugh, following Steve to the cargo bay, “We’re greasy smugglers, stupid is an occupational hazard.”

***

By the time the bulk of their cargo was sold ( _painstakingly_ at that, every other customer had tried to pay _half_ the asking price), the sun was just getting low in the sky. Steve sent a quick transmission to his mom about where they were and she had said she would come and meet them at the merchant market. 

So now, standing at the edge of _Winter_ ’s cargo ramp, Steve scanned the crowd anxiously, searching for his mom’s familiar shape, his fingertips fidgeting with the edges of his shirt sleeves. James stood beside him, scanning as well, though Steve suspected the smuggler’s watchfulness was connected to their run-in with Carter. 

He hadn’t gotten the whole conversation of course (which didn’t bother him at all, nope, not one bit), but he _had_ heard the portion about the GM “keeping tabs” on James. It worried him more than he could really say, perhaps most of all because he didn’t know _what_ it was James knew that was so damn important. If the GM wanted to keep an eye on him… who else could be looking for him? If the GM _was_ keeping eyes on James, did that mean that they could just… jump out and whisk them away to who-knows-where at any moment that suited them?

Suddenly spotting her through the crowd, Steve nudged James and pointed, “There she is!” 

Sah’rea spotted him about the same time and waved, walking quickly over. Steve stepped forward to meet her, James followed more slowly.

“ _Do’oridto, he’vatch_ ,” Sah’rea whispered warmly, pulling Steve into a tight hug.

“ _He’vatch, deda_ ,” he replied, smiling, before pulling back, “Mom, this is James,” he said, unable to keep the nervousness out of his voice as he waved a hand toward James in a lame presentation-like gesture.

James smiled in what Steve recognized as his “trying to be as winningly charming as possible”-smile, “James Barnes, ma’am, I’m thrilled to meet you,” he said, somewhat breaking his “charming” look by half-offering a hand to shake, before seemingly rethinking the action and attempting to change it, turning it into a sort of stunted… wave.

Steve changed his mind. If there was any sort of GM surveillance team around here, he would gladly let them toss a bag over his head and drag him off to who-knows-where, the awkward tension was tangibly thick. He was blushing slightly red from the empathetic cringe alone.

Sah’rea didn’t smile, but looked James up and down before she offered out a hand, “Sah’rea Roge’ehrs, Mr. Barnes, and I’ve got no trouble shaking hands.”

James flushed, nodding and giving her hand a firm shake, “Apologies, Mrs. Rogers, I… I wasn’t sure what kind of customs are normal this side of space.”

Steve’s mom pulled a face and raised her eyebrows at James. Steve winced because he _knew_ what was coming next (and it wasn’t just because James had managed to mangle her last name).

“Is there a problem with ‘this side of space’?” Sah’rea asked severely.

“ _Mom_ ,” hissed Steve.

James blushed to a darker shade of red and said quickly, “No! No, I just…” he let out a breath, looking down with a short chuckle as he finished in a mutter, “ _really_ like the taste of my own foot.”

Steve tensed, surprised by James’ sudden laughter.

And then the surprise doubled, because Sah’rea was laughing, too. She turned to look at Steve, stifling a giggle and saying quietly, “ _Yoe, chochen’tra elvy te b’ruh jgem._ ” (more or less, “Alright, he’s a charming and not greasy.”)

Steve rolled his eyes, relief flooding through him. He shook his head and looked at James, saying quickly, “You won’t believe this, but she says you’re not greasy.”

Sah’rea pursed her lips, lifting a finger to stop James before he could respond, “The night is young, Do’oridto, my opinions can change.” 

James laughed, nodding along, “Right, wouldn’t want to form any opinions yet.”

Sah’rea glanced behind them, up at the ship’s gleaming hull, “So,” she said, “that’s your ship?”

James nodded, grinning widely as he looked back, “Yes, ma’am. She’s called _Winter’s Heart_ ,” he said proudly, “best ship in the galaxy, in my opinion.”

She made a sort of “huh” noise, her eyes narrowing curiously as she took in every detail, “She’s a Howler,” she said thoughtfully.

Steve frowned. How the _hell_ …?

“Your father used to fly one of those,” Sah’rea said, leaning close to Steve.

James’ eyebrows shot upwards, “Steve’s dad was in the military?” 

Steve didn’t quite hear his mom’s response, he was staring at _Winter_ with renewed interest. Taking in each curve and corner, the stripes, the star on the wingtip… 

His mom never talked too much about his dad anymore. When he was younger she’d told him stories about him, about him being a soldier, a pilot, but never any specifics. 

His dad had died just before Steve was born so he had never… 

“I’m sorry,” James’ remorseful voice suddenly cut into Steve’s thoughts, “Steve never mentioned him, I didn’t know…”

Steve blinked a few times, bringing himself back to the present. James was frowning, glancing at Steve with a quiet sort of worry.

His mom was smiling a little, shaking her head, “Don’t be sorry, it was only me thinking out loud.” She sighed lightly, glancing at Steve as she said, “We should probably be getting back to the house. Dinner will be blackened if we stay here all night,” she laughed a little, adding, “Which would certainly be a shame, since I live just around the corner.”

James smiled and he nodded at _Winter_ , “Fine by me! I just gotta move the ship to a proper docking bay first things first, but,” he looked at Steve, saying, “why don’t you two go on ahead, catch up a bit, right? Steve can buzz me the directions to the house,” he grabbed out his communicator as if to punctuate his point.

Steve frowned, “You sure? I can come with you,” he took a step toward the ship.

James shook his head, “Nah, I’ll be fine, you two probably have a lot to talk about.”

Admittedly, Steve wouldn’t mind some time to talk to his mom alone, but… 

When he didn’t respond, James took that as a “yes” and kept walking into the cargo bay, turning around to add a parting, “I will see you both in ten, fifteen minutes! Go make sure the food’s alright!” he grinned, tossing them an indecorous salute.

Steve frowned after James, but called, “See ya soon!”

James waved one last time before disappearing from sight entirely. A moment or two later the cargo doors were closing.

Sah’rea tapped Steve on the shoulder, saying, “We should move, right?”

Steve nodded, “Yeah, let’s go,” he said, unable to shake James’ odd behavior, but accepting it nonetheless, turning away and heading for home with his mom. 

Before they had gone too far, Steve heard the loud rumble of the Howler engines taking flight and he turned around to watch the ship rise. It levelled out at a low altitude, joining the other spacecraft that were traveling within the atmosphere.

“So,” his mom began, looping her arm through his, forcing his steps to slow to a pace more comfortable for her (he’d always had the bad habit of walking too quickly for her to keep up, even though he was only an inch or so taller than her), “he seems… alright.”

Steve tore his eyes away from the sky, looking now at his mom with a teasing smile, “Thank you for the morally ambiguous compliment, mom.”

She smacked his shoulder lightly, saying, “I met him for two minutes, you can hardly expect anything but ambiguous.”

He laughed, “Except for ‘charming’, that one was hardly vague.”

Sah’rea pursed her lips, tossing him an annoyed glance, “No, _that_ one was expected. He convinced you to join him so I figured he had to be.”

Steve sighed, still smiling a little as he murmured, “I guess you’re right, he convinced me to join me over the course of one lunch, so…”

This time she smacked his shoulder harder, “He _didn’t_!”

Steve gave her a guilty look that said more than words did. 

She exhaled slowly and shook her head, looking away, “Alright, he’s… clearly _very_ charming.”

He chuckled a little, “He’s a good guy, though,” he said, in a more serious tone, “you know I wouldn’t hang around with him if he wasn’t.”

Sah’rea sniffed in a “we’ll see” sort of way, but said nothing. After a moment, she chose a different topic.

“So what does it mean?” she asked.

Steve’s eyebrows shot up and he looked at her, “What does what mean?”

She nudged him in a significant sort of way, “That name he calls you. ‘ _Steve_ ’.”

He blushed, laughing, “It’s just a nickname, it doesn’t mean anything. Well, except that he’s _really_ bad at pronouncing my real name.”

She frowned, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, he made it up just after we met because he couldn’t get his tongue around ‘Do’oridto’,” he said, still chuckling a little.

His mom looked thoughtful, “Huh,” she said.

He turned his head to look at her fully, “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, tugging him down the smaller road that led to her house, “Oh, nothing,” she said, clearly lying.

Steve rolled his eyes, smiling, “ _Mom_ ,” he prodded as he removed his arm from hers. 

They had reached the house, a smallish building painted with a very particular shade of blue which always looked a little bit like it was also covered in a fine layer of dust, even when it wasn’t (one of many identical ones along the lane). He took a couple steps ahead to open the garden gate for his mom, combining the polite action with an expectant sort of look as he waited for his answer.

She sighed, pausing at the gate and meeting his eyes, “You’re going to think I’m being ridiculous.”

He laughed, “I promise I won’t.”

Sah’rea rolled her eyes, then quietly answered, “I thought that it had to mean something else because whenever he calls you ‘Steve’ you… smile.”

Steve’s laughter died down, his eyebrows furrowing. 

His mom shook her head, sighing as she turned away to walk to the door, saying over her shoulder, “But, like you said, it doesn’t mean anything at all, so forget I mentioned it.”

Steve stared after her, trying to decipher whether her last comment had been serious or that motherly sarcasm he was so familiar with. _“Oh, noooo, Do’oridto, it doesn’t mean anything at all.”_

He shook his head, following his mom into the house.

No, he was just hearing things. It was just a nickname. She knew that, he knew that, James knew that. It wasn’t _anything_.

Steve let out a deep breath, following his mom to the front door, flipping his communicator open to send James a message.

**[What docking bay are you at? The house is down a street called V’Tarn, just off the main road the market was at.]**

He walked into the house, the familiar smells of home washing over his senses. While his mom rushed away to the kitchen to check the food, he lingered just in front of the doorway, taking in the familiar sights.

It was like he’d never left. Holo-images flashed in their frames between the static hand-drawn pictures that Steve had gifted his mom over the years. He wandered over to one of the worn chairs and tossed himself down into it, sinking into the cushions with a smile.

“Well, the food is safe and sound!” Sah’rea said, walking in with a satisfied grin, “Though if the two of you have been eating nothing but dry proteins lately, I doubt either of you would have minded a little crispiness around the edges.”

Steve laughed, “I’ve never seen James turn down free food, so you’re probably right.”

She looked at him as if he had just arrived and Steve frowned at her. He was about to ask why she was looking at when she smoothed the hair back from his forehead and planted a kiss there, saying quietly, “I have missed you, son.”

Steve grabbed her hand, “I know,” he murmured, then flicked his gaze up to meet her eyes, “and I’ve missed you. And I…” he sighed, “I really want you and James to get along.”

Sah’rea smiled (a good sign) and let out a short breath, “It doesn’t look like he’s going to make ‘getting along’ too difficult,” she said, with the ghost of a laugh.

“I don’t want you to worry about me,” Steve said quietly.

She snorted, shaking her head, “I’m afraid that’s not an option, Do’oridto,” she hesitated, then added, “but… maybe, when you call, we could talk about… other things?”

Steve chuckled, “How’s work at the hospital? Gee, the weather’s been just terrible, ey?”

His mom smacked him on the shoulder lightly, “Don’t make fun,” she warned, past her amused smile, “We can talk about… the planets you visit or… the things you see.”

He sighed heavily, nodding, looking down thoughtfully, “It’s probably safer that way,” he glanced up at her for a fraction of a second before returning his gaze to the floor, “just in case anything happens to us.”

Sah’rea smacked his shoulder harder. When Steve winced and muttered a “hey!”, she gave him a severe look, “Now don’t you dare start talking like that.”

Steve stared at her, but before he could respond, she was turning around and walking back to the kitchen, muttering Rooklin expletives under her breath, before saying, at full volume, “Come help me set the table!”

He chuckled a little, shaking his head as he hauled himself to his feet.

It definitely felt like he had never left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and, overall, sticking through this, I honestly do appreciate all the comments and kudos and just. Everything. I love you all, you're so patient and kind. Thank you for your understanding!! ^-^
> 
> Fun facts/excuses: I have had a cold the past few days, I am currently, like?? a week away from a big con and I still have costumes to finish (rip me, golly wolly, but on the bright side, this is my last con of the year, meaning that maybe just maybe costuming will be done for a little while and I can write more??), aND my work is still lowkey under-staffed with me as the SOLE MANAGER/PERSON WHO KNOWS WHAT ME AND EVERYONE ELSE ON THE ENTIRE FRIGGIN STAFF IS SUPPOSED TO BE DOING (I'm too young for this shit, guys, all I wanna do is sit in a blanket fort and work on my fanfictions and maybe cry a bit. T-T)
> 
> Ok, ok, ok, but real talk, you may all be currently wondering "wtf is up with James and his weird running off act, what the crap??" and my answer is simply that this chapter was ~supposed~ to include all that but then the word count went crazy and I said SCREW IT and broke it up, meaning NEXT chapter we get more of what James was maybe sorta kinda up to and also they will finally all sit down and eat dinner and have lovely discussions about Steve's childhood (which will 100% have Steve blushing FURIOUSLY). :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why was James Barnes acting so strange? What's this author's obsession with cameo appearances by EVERYBODY and their uncle? What does Sah'rea Roge’ehrs REALLY think of him? What's for dinner? Are Steve and James lowkey married to each other now? How much pining can the author fit into a single chapter? If this chapter had any more fluff, would it float away? At least 10% of these questions will have answers by the end of this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all!! I want to thank everyone who's read and been patient with me!! I did NaNoWriMo last month, so I wasn't able to update, and then this month has just, in general, been an absolute madhouse with the holidays and all.  
> Small note, just so everyone is aware... I am sorta kinda going back to school at the start of January. I say "sorta kinda" because it's not so much a "degree" as a certificate program? And I'll only be taking one or two classes per quarter for that. HOWEVER, as you all know, me and time have a disagreement because I have no concept of how to manage it, just look at my update """schedule""", lmao. Rest assured I will try my hardest to get chapters written for this fic, however long they may take. I really am dedicated to seeing this fic through to the end, so I won't abandon this. ^_^ It may take a bit longer between updates, though I know ya'll are probably lowkey used to that, haha.  
> Again, thank you all for the encouraging comments, and for the kudos, and for EVERYTHING, as well as being so understanding of my GROSS INABILITY TO MAINTAIN A SCHEDULE (...I'm so sorry... >_>)  
> I hope you enjoy!!

After James docked _Winter_ , he took his sweet time in grabbing his jacket, straightening up his blaster belt and checking his hair. His comm buzzed and he checked the message from Steve. 

**[What docking bay are you at? The house is down a street called V’Tarn, just off the main road the market was at.]**

He frowned at the message, but made no move to answer it. 

It wasn't that he didn't want to go to dinner. He just really didn't think Mrs. Rogers would appreciate any extra company. Hopefully the dumbass who was following him would take a hint and come meet him here, rather than trying to catch him on the way to the house. He tucked his communicator away and walked down the ship, turning out lights as he went.

As he walked through the cargo bay on his way out, James stopped to grab a small crate with a few of the unsold sprouts in it, as a gift for Steve’s mom. He turned and hit the unlock keys and the door clanked and creaked its way open.

James’s eyes scanned the evenly-lit docking bay carefully. There were no other people to be seen as far as he could tell. This bay was small, and _Winter_ had taken up one of the last few available spaces. 

Satisfied, he set the crate down and turned his back so he could lock _Winter_ down. 

Something behind him made a _fwish_ noise, and a moment later, before James could even turn to look, two arrows had anchored themselves into the asphalt on either side of him, each within an inch of his feet. 

James stiffened, but didn’t turn around, forcing himself to sound casual as he input the lock codes, saying over his shoulder, “And is that supposed to impress me?”

“Well,” a voice drawled slowly. 

The cargo doors started to close and James turned at last to face his pursuer.

The man who was walking across the bay to him shrugged, continuing, “I mean, I don’t think a bit of applause would be completely unwarranted,” he grinned, slowing to a stop a few feet away and shrugging again, “but, then, I’m a circus kid at heart, so any audience participation is really ideal.”

James frowned, looking the guy up and down. He was blond, his hair sticking upwards at an almost improbable angle, and James could see the remains of bruising around one of his eyes, the leftovers of a black eye. Although the guy carried himself with all the deliberateness that James associated with military training, he was wearing what amounted to a purple t-shirt and dark cargo pants, with a quiver full of arrows slung over his shoulder and a bow held casually in one hand. 

“So,” James said, raising one eyebrow, “the Galactic Military is hiring sideshow freaks now?”

The guy _guffawed_ , an honest grin splitting his face as he laughed.

James deepened his frown, surprised by the reaction, “Something funny?”

“No, no, I mean,” the guy chuckled a little, “only if you know what my coworkers are like. But also, no,” he shrugged, “I’m just a regular guy. No freakiness, I swear.”

James rolled his eyes, “What do you want?” he asked sharply. 

Yes, his temper was wearing thin. _Of course_ it was, he’d had one too many run-ins with his past over the last few days and he had been entirely prepared for a relaxing dinner with Steve (with _real food_ no less). 

The guy’s smile faded a little, and he nodded at James, “Right, all business. I know you’re expected elsewhere, so I’ll make this quick. Although,” the guy smirked, “I think you might know what I’m after already.”

“Do I?” James raised his eyebrows.

“I’m here to ask about the Black Widow.”

James couldn’t hold back the frustrated growl that rose in his throat. He rolled his eyes and muttered, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“I think it’s cute,” the guy said, “you pulling the whole parking stunt to get your new partner out of the way. Do you…” his smirk widened, “Do you not want him to know about what happened?”

“I haven’t had the chance to explain,” James said, through gritted teeth.

“I get it, man, I do,” the guy said, “messy breakups and all, it’s tough.”

James shook his head, “Just get to the point, what do you want?”

“I wanna find her.” The guy said it like it _wasn’t_ a dumb idea. Frankly, James was impressed.

“And what happens if you do?” he asked.

The guy blinked, hesitating momentarily before saying, “I have my orders.”

Knowing the GM, that was probably twice as bad as it sounded. Probably the worst it _could_ be, that they intended to go for capture or kill, whichever was convenient.

But, with this fact, it was James’s turn for laughter and he shook his head. “What was your name?” he asked.

The guy smiled slightly, “Just call me Clint.”

“Listen, Clint,” James said sternly, locking eyes with the other man, “do yourself a favor and ignore whatever orders they’ve given you and _don’t_ go after her. You’ll end up dead.”

Clint shrugged (something he seemed to do a lot), and said, “Maybe. Maybe not.”

James raised an eyebrow, gesturing at the other man, “So, the black eye was, what?” he smirked, “Did you run into a doorframe?”

“Nah,” Clint said, snorting, “you should see the other guys.”

“What’s left of them?” James asked, his smirk growing colder. He knew how the GM worked.

Instead of answering, Clint bit his lip, looking James over before saying, “So, can you tell me anything? Where she might be, places she frequents?”

James snorted, rolling his eyes, “I don’t have the slightest clue. Haven’t talked to her since we parted ways.”

“And you’d tell me if you had?” Clint asked, an edge to his voice.

James looked away, chuckling ruefully, “Probably not,” he shook his head, “I don’t much like sending people to their deaths, that’s kinda why I left the GM. And you probably know better than most people what sort of body count she’s stacked up by now.”

Clint crossed his arms, his bow still hanging nonchalantly from one hand, “She’s still a criminal. A very dangerous one, at that, someone’s gotta stop her.”

“What happened?” James asked, honestly curious, “Did she take out one too many targets that the GM had claimsies on? Upset you all by daring to kill the dangerous guys that you were all planning on getting rid of anyway?”

Clint’s jaw tightened, “She took out a few of our targets, yes. But she’s also wiped multiple computers of vital information, killed prisoners before we could gain any intel from them, and remains an at-large threat to everything we’re working towards.”

“And what is it you’re working towards, exactly?” James asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Peace,” Clint said firmly, as if he actually believed it. With that kind of dedication, James knew it was pointless to try and argue the point.

Sighing resignedly, James shook his head, “Whatever,” he said, “Are we done?”

Clint looked James up and down, “Don’t suppose I get anything else out of you?”

James shrugged, reaching down to grab his crate of plants off the ground, “There’s nothing else to get. Like I said, I washed my hands of her.”

“So,” Clint crossed his arms, “The fact that your name keeps coming up every time I go searching for her… total coincidence? She seems to send a lot of people your way for someone with a grudge.”

“I never said she had a grudge,” James said, lifting the crate, carefully picking his way around the arrows in the ground to move away, “and what she does with her recommendations is her own business,” he slowed to give Clint a look, “And I’ve never sent anyone her way, in case you're wondering.”

“So, your new partner,” Clint drawled, forcing James to stop mid-step to listen, “he doesn't have a clue?”

James stayed quiet, biting his tongue. The last thing he wanted was for Steve to get dragged into anything.

“About what you and her were running, back in the day?” Clint continued, “Hell of a lot worse than a few smuggled parts.”

James took a breath, counting to ten before he took a slow step forward, walking away from Clint, heading for the exit stairwell which he _hoped_ would take him back to the main road, though at this point he was just trying to get away.

“You ever think about why she took the fall for you?” 

That stopped James again, and he turned to glare back at Clint, “What makes you think she took a fall at all?”

Clint shrugged, “Just a gut feeling. I've spent a lot of time tracking Widow down, getting to know her,” he let out a breath, shaking his head at James, “She must’ve really liked you, Barnes. And, I mean, if the gossip is anything to go by, the two of you really seemed,” he smirked, gesturing vaguely (but nonetheless somehow still crudely) with his free hand, “ _close_.”

James snorted, “You don't know anything.”

“Enlighten me, then,” Clint challenged.

Shaking his head, James muttered a quiet, “Doesn’t matter. Me and her aren’t anything anymore.”

Granted, there was the tiniest bit of truth to what Clint was saying. Tasha and him… had been “close” once, but that had been left behind long before they ended their partnership. Too many things had gone wrong, on both personal and business ends.

His comm buzzed and he reached for it without thinking. 

Immediately, Clint went from lighthearted, shrugging mess to a ready stance, an arrow already nocked with the bow string held taut to his cheek, before James realized his mistake. 

“Just checking my comm,” James said, slowly moving his hand away from his pocket.

Clint, his eyes suddenly grim, looked James up and down once before answering, “Grab it with your left hand.”

“What?”

Clint raised his eyebrows, “You’re right handed. Grab it with your left hand so at least I'm not totally screwed if it's a weapon, right?”

James sighed, but obliged, shifting the crate awkwardly from one hand to the other. He had to turn his upper body at a weird angle to get to his right pocket with his left hand, but he managed it.

He checked the comm, another message from Steve.

**[Is everything ok? Things seemed a bit off when you left.]**

James smiled a little, although his gut wrenched at the sudden reminder that Steve was waiting up for him.

“That the new boyfriend, then?” Clint asked sarcastically, his stance relaxing somewhat, now that he was sure it was just a comm.

James’s smile fell and he gave Clint a sharp look, “Shut up,” he said as he slipped his comm back into his pocket.

Clint’s eyebrows darted upwards, “Touchy. It’s ok, I get it.”

James rolled his eyes and he inhaled a sharp breath, “I’m done here,” he turned on his heel, saying over his shoulder, “Gotta get to dinner. Important people to see.”

“And if I have more questions?” Clint asked.

“Find someone else to bother,” James said flatly, adding, in a louder tone, “And stay the hell away from my ship!”

“Yeah, well, there’s not really anybody else _to_ bother,” Clint called after him, as James opened the stairwell door, “Most everybody else she ever worked with is _dead_!”

James turned, giving Clint a dark look, “Not my problem.”

With that, he flicked the door open and hurried down the steps, annoyance pushing him faster than he normally would go. He just wanted to go eat dinner with Steve. That’s all he was really on this damn planet for, right? 

That and getting the GM off his back, and _clearly_ that part worked out _so well_ (though Clint hadn’t technically been here about smuggled parts…)

A small voice in the back of James’s mind chided him for not telling Steve about him and Tasha’s…“dealings” sooner.

 _But which ones, the romantic ones or the business ones_? 

James shoved the thought aside. It didn’t actually matter, did it? Steve wouldn’t care. 

He wouldn’t… 

*** 

James smoothed his hair down one more time when he spotted Steve down the lane a little way. The short alien was standing in front of a low garden gate, and waved at James as he approached. 

He’d buzzed Steve once he’d gotten out of the docking bay, finding himself totally lost upon emerging from the stairwell, and had finally managed to find his way back to where they’d started.

“What’s that?” Steve asked, frowning at the crate in James’s hands.

James smiled, “A gift for your mom, a few of the extra sprouts, I figured she could use some…” he paused, looking down at the plants, suddenly aware that he had no idea what they were.

Steve laughed, “I think that one’s a bean of some kind,” he said, pointing.

“Yeah, well,” James shrugged, “I guess she’s gonna have to wait and see. That’s fine, right? It’s like a surprise.”

Steve nodded, chuckling a little as he unlatched the garden gate and walked through, holding it open for James. 

James took a deep breath, staring at the house (which he was sure wasn’t _supposed_ to look this imposing, but it somehow did) for a moment before glancing at Steve, “That’s a… it’s nice. The house is, I mean,” he smiled a bit, looking away as he realized how inane the comment sounded.

Steve turned to meet James’s eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, “Everything ok?”

James bit his lower lip and tilted his head in a so-so way, “Fine, I’ll…” he looked at Steve soberly, “I’ll explain later.”

“What is it?” Steve asked, a touch of anxiety to his tone.

James shook his head, “Don’t worry,” he tried for a crooked smile, using his free hand to give the shorter man a good-natured punch on the shoulder, “It’s not like we’ve been made, I just…” he shook his head again, sighing heavily, “You ever have a week that just wants to drag you?”

Steve’s frown deepened, but he lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug and said, “I don’t know… I think one time I had a broken arm and then got two different versions of the flu,” he smiled teasingly, “Does it feel anything like that?”

James snorted, nodding, “Sounds right to me.”

Steve stopped in front of the door and grabbed the handle. James took a deep breath, shifting awkwardly in place.

“You nervous, Barnes?” Steve asked.

“Oh, hell, yeah,” James laughed, though the sound seemed broken to his own ears, as tense energy laced through his whole body and he tried to think of this like a business deal. That’s all it was. Just a smuggling deal, he’d always been good at talking to people over deals. It was easy, you just talked smooth and got what you wanted.

What _did_ he want?

 _Mrs.Rogers, just please like me and don’t worry about your son, he’s fine_.

Sure, yeah. That was a real solid plan. He didn’t sound at all like a twelve year-old trying to make a friends with the kid down the street.

Steve smirked and turned the handle, mouthing, “Good luck,” to James as he walked in. 

As they walked in the door, Steve whispered that James could just leave the crate of plants beside the front door, so they wouldn’t get dirt all over the house.

“Found him!” Steve called, shutting the door carefully behind them while James set the crate down.

“About time!” Steve’s mom said in an annoyed sort of tone (which James hoped and prayed was not true annoyance, though Steve was chuckling now, which eased his mind somewhat). 

As James walked in he hesitated, letting his eyes wander. Steve disappeared into the next room over, but James stayed to take in the sights. A couch and a few large, cushioned chairs sat around a low table in the middle of the room, with some kind of game board (it looked a bit like chess? Except it was octogon shaped and had about twice the number of squares.) sitting on top. There were holo-images in frames on every wall, flashing pictures of a younger, somehow even _smaller_ version of Steve. In between those, there were a lot of pictures that James recognized immediately to be Steve’s drawing style (perhaps a little less polished, but it was just as identifiable). It was strange, like suddenly stepping into a whole new dimension of Steve… Dorito… whatever.

After a minute or two he followed the path Steve had taken and emerged into the kitchen, a small but clean space where Mrs.Rogers was hastily taking pots off of the stove and setting them on the table. She looked up and smiled as he entered .

“James, I’m glad you could finally join us!” she said.

Steve, who was carrying a basket of what looked like rice cakes, muttered something in another language as he passed by.

Mrs.Rogers laughed, responding in Basic, “I am _not_!” she turned back to James, saying quietly, “I _am_ glad you’ve joined us, James,” she flicked a hand toward the small dinner table on the other side of the room, “Seats are over there, go on and make yourself comfortable.”

James smiled, “Thank you, ma’am. But is there anything you need me to help with?”

She looked… James didn’t know if “bitterly impressed” was a thing, but that was the only way to describe it. She narrowed her eyes at him and smirked (in such Steve-like way that it almost drove James to laughter), then grabbed a serving bowl filled with some sliced fruits (or were those vegetables?) and said softly, “Go on and take these to the table for me.”

As James headed for the table, Steve brushed by him, smiling in a sort of encouraging way as he passed. 

After that it was a quick flurry of back and forth movement, grabbing what seemed like a ridiculous number of dishes for only three of them to eat. On a positive note, by the time they all settled into their chairs, Mrs.Rogers seemed less likely to snap James in half if he did something wrong. Or perhaps that was just him getting acclimated to her sense of humor.

As they passed the food around, Mrs.Rogers looked at James, eyebrows raised curiously, “So, tell me, Mr.Barnes, how long have you been a smuggler?”

James nearly choked on his water, surprised by the sudden question (even though he really should have seen it coming). He cleared his throat, answering quickly, “Oh, um, about six years now?”

“You must have started very young,” Mrs.Rogers said, raising her eyebrows higher.

James chuckled self-consciously, ducking his head in a quick nod, “Yeah, I had just turned twenty when I took the first smuggling job.”

“But he was in the military before that,” Steve provided quickly. 

“Yeah,” James affirmed, nodding as he grabbed a rice-cake-thing (looking at Steve to see what the proper way to eat the meal was), “Joined up young, was in for two years before I,” he flushed slightly, realizing quickly that his exit could only be understated, “well, quit.”

Mrs. Rogers scooped some kind of meat sauce over her pile of chopped veggies and rice patty, eyeing James critically, “Quite the career change.”

“Yes, ma’am,” James laughed.

She grabbed her fork and used it to stab a chunk out of the rice cake, “How come?”

James took the serving tray of sauce from Steve and gave Mrs.Rogers a small smile and shrug, “I saw my life heading in a very different direction,” he said simply.

Mrs.Rogers took this answer thoughtfully, chewing a bite of food in silence. From beside James, Steve cleared his throat to speak.

“How’s the hospital?” he asked.

Mrs.Rogers smiled, “Still full of sick people,” she joked, looking to James with a quick, “I don’t know if my son told you where I work?”

James nodded, “You’re a nurse at the local hospital and, from the amount of work you’ve put into that place, you should be running the joint and instead they run you ragged?”

She laughed, turning to look at Steve with surprise, “Perhaps he’s been telling you _too much_.”

Steve sank in his chair a little, focusing suddenly on his dinner, “I don’t know what you’re referring to, _deda_ , I haven’t told him a thing,” he glanced up, an innocent look on his face.

Mrs.Rogers snorted, leaning toward James, “Does he do that to you, too?” she asked, “Pull out the big blue eyes and try to act blameless?”

James feigned indignance, “Mrs.Rogers,” he gasped, furrowing his brow, “do you mean Steve could be manipulating me?” he looked at Steve, still frowning, “I _did_ notice the big blue eyes when we met…”

Steve scoffed, shaking his head, at James, “No, no no. Don’t get me started, Mister ‘Let-Me-Buy-You-Lunch’!”

James grinned, “I buy lunch for all the brawlers I find in alleyways, don’t go thinking you’re special,” he said, with a quick wink.

Mrs.Rogers cleared her throat loudly and James turned suddenly to look at her, his face suddenly heating with embarassment (only because he thought he’d said something wrong, not like he’d just fucking _winked_ at this woman’s son in a totally flirtatious manner, because that definitely hadn’t just happened). 

She looked pointedly at Steve, “Brawling in alleyways?”

If James was red in the face, Steve was doubly so now, and he bit his lower lip, muttering, “I can explain…”

Mrs.Rogers shook her head, saying something under her breath in an alien dialect before saying, at full volume, “I trust,” she glanced at James before returning her gaze to her son, “now that you’ve found yourself a job, you’ve stopped brawling with strangers in alleyways?”

Steve looked up, nodding, “Yes.”

She took a breath, turning to look at James, “Do you know that he came to visit me at work _more times_ for injuries he got fighting bullies, than he _ever_ did just to say ‘hello’?”

James smirked, only just swallowing down a chuckle (he didn’t suppose it was appropriate to laugh about skinny kid Steve getting his ass kicked all the time), “Nah, but it sounds about right for him.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I was just a _kid_!”

Mrs.Rogers shook her head, sighing, “I know, but did you have to go looking for…” she stopped herself, “It doesn’t matter,” she said, looking over to James as she changed the subject, “Why exactly did you ask to buy Do’oridto lunch?”

James chuckled, biting his lip and looking over to meet Steve’s eyes (big and blue and smiling with a comfortable ease), “Well, it was kinda just,” he shrugged, blinking and tearing his gaze away from Steve to look back at Mrs.Rogers, “Just a feeling? Gut instincts, I guess you could call it? I mean,” he shrugged again, shifting in his seat a bit, “obviously, I invited him to lunch because my first impression of him was just… _good_. And I figured, hey,” he smiled widely, looking at Steve, “why not give it a shot, right?” Clearing his throat, he looked back at Mrs.Rogers again, adding quickly, “I know that’s a terrible explaination, but there’s some things you just can’t explain, y’know?”

Mrs.Rogers nodded, looking at Steve with some sort of signifigance that James couldn’t puzzle out, saying, “I understand entirely, Mr.Barnes,” she shifted her gaze back to him, the spark of signifigance in her eyes now gone (if it had even really been there), “So where will you be going, after you finish your business here?”

James gave a noncommittal shrug, “Wherever the jobs take us.”

“Right,” she said, nodding her understanding and picking another bite of her dinner, “Secrecy would be the smuggler’s way, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m glad you understand, ma’am,” he said, with as much sincerity as he could. He _did_ appreciate that she understood, truly. It was always difficult, when there were… family members in the mix.

From there, conversation lulled as each person ate.

And, as James started digging into his dinner, he realized what a fool he had been. 

This food was _perfect_ as far as he was concerned. He didn’t know what half of the dishes even were, but they were delicious and it was one of the best meals of his life. Or, at least, better than any diner he’d ever gone to… 

And now he was kinda starting to regret taking Steve to that one shitty place the first day they met, because if _this_ was the kind of food Steve had grown up eating, how in the blazing fires of hell itself had James _ever_ convinced him to team up? While offering _greasy-ass_ diner “food”?

It was a miracle, plain and simple. 

The rest of the meal was relatively silent, every now and then a question bursting the comfortable quiet.

James learned a lot of things that night. 

He learned that Mrs.Rogers was twice as sarcastic as Steve was, and quick witted. He learned that Steve had an embarrassing childhood, filled to the brim with blackmail-worthy stories (each of which left Steve turning dark shades of red amidst shared laughter). He learned that Steve had been drawing for as long as he could hold a pen (and on anything he could make a mark on, including wallpaper), and that he hated when his mom bragged about him even though she, personally, loved it. 

He learned that Mrs.Rogers made a _mean_ lemony dessert thing (which had a name James couldn’t pronounce). 

And, when Mrs.Rogers brought out pictures, he learned that Steve had the same smile as his dad (a smile that had been shining almost non-stop since they’d arrived at the house, so, James supposed, he also learned that Steve was happiest when he was home). 

Lastly, of course, James Barnes learned that Sah’rea Rogers _didn’t_ want to kill him. 

At the end of the night, as Steve was in another room grabbing blankets for James (who was sleeping on the couch tonight), she walked over to him, looking grim.

James looked up from his seat on the couch, smiling a little and raising his eyebrows in place of asking what she needed.

Mrs.Rogers sat down across from him, leaning forward and speaking quietly, “I… would like to thank you…”

He blinked in surprise, “For what?”

She looked down, twiddling her fingers like Steve did when he was sorting out his thoughts, “For making my son as… happy as he is.”

James flushed, letting out a quick breath and saying hastily, “I haven’t really done anything, ma’am, I just-”

“I understand, you don’t think much of what you’ve done for him,” Mrs.Rogers interupted gently, laughing a little, “And I know he makes you happy, too. I can see that the two of you… just being around him, you play off each other, understand one another.”

He shrugged, smiling, “We’ve only known each other a week…” he said slowly.

“Well,” she tilted her head a little, considering the number, “it’s true, you don’t exactly _know_ one another. But understanding and knowing are different, you know.”

A small smile slipped onto James’s face and he nodded a bit, “Yeah…” he said, unsure how else to respond.

Mrs.Rogers stood, patting him on the shoulder and saying, almost off-handedly, “You’re a good friend to him, James. He has needed one for a long time.” She paused a moment, saying quickly, “I _do_ expect to see the both of you back here for dinner again, alright?”

He nodded his agreement with a faint smile, murmuring a quiet, “Of course,” as she left the room, leaving him staring at the floor. 

_Friend_. 

Right. That was all. Like Steve had said. Professionalism. 

“Here we go!”

James blinked, jumping a bit as he looked up to see Steve walking in toting an armful of blankets.

Steve grinned, half-throwing the entire armful down on the couch next to James, “Blankets, a pillow, whatever you need.”

James smiled widely, “Excellent service, at this hotel, but,” he bobbed up and down on the couch cushion pointedly, “the beds are a bit small.”

Steve sat down next to him, testing the couch’s softness, “Seems fine to me,” he said.

“Pfft,” James scoffed, giving Steve a side-eyed glance, “well, yeah, you’re tiny.”

“I have a condition!” Steve said, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically.

“Or ten,” James amended.

Steve rolled his eyes, “Yes. A condition or ten.”

James chuckled, nudging Steve’s shoulder with his own, “Don’t let it get you down, kid.”

“I’ll try to be strong,” Steve said, sighing woefully.

A snort escaped James and he reached past Steve to get the pillow out from under the pile of blankets, “I think you got that part covered.”

Steve laughed, pushing himself to his feet with a quick, “Not if I don’t go to bed. I’m dead exhausted.”

James looked up at Steve thoughtfully, holding his hand up to compare where the top of his head was in relation to Steve.

“What?” Steve asked.

James laughed as he finished his calculations, saying, “So, I’m like, a foot shorter than you right now.”

“Yeah, and?” 

“So this is, comparatively, how you see me all the time?”

Steve rolled his eyes, laughing, but not responding. (Even though the answer was _yes_ , James knew).

“You ever get tired of staring up my nose?” James teased.

Steve shook his head, “You’re a ten year-old.”

James grinned, leaning forward, not letting the topic go just yet, “So, like, do I look better or worse from standing angle? How long was it before you got to see the top of my head?”

“You look like a big jerk from every angle, actually,” Steve said, smirking, “especially from the top of your head, which I’m looking at right now.”

James snorted, laughing as he leaned back in his seat again, putting up a hand in surrender, “Ok, ok, I’m done, I swear.”

Steve bit his lower lip, exhaling. James could tell he was trying not to laugh. The short alien only rolled his eyes, though, saying, “Good, because I’m going to bed now.”

As Steve turned on his heel to go, James chuckled, clambering to his feet to figure out what to do with the pile of blankets.

“Goodnight, Stevie!” he called, with sugary sweetness.

“Night, jerk,” came the tepid response (which managed to get another snorting chuckle out of James). 

This night had been…

James smiled as he rearranged the blankets, because even though he’d never been in this house before today, somehow it felt _homey_. It felt just… right. The only other time in his entire life that he’d felt this way had been the first time he’d flown a Howler class ship. Like it was _his_. Not in a possessive way, but like… it was the place he belonged.

He could belong _here_ , too.

And maybe as long as Steve was with him, he could belong _anywhere_.

It was a nice thought. James smiled a little at the concept of it, allowing himself a moment to imagine if that were actually true.

But it wasn’t. 

It was just… it was silly, right? Yeah. Stupid, silly, dumb. 

James crawled between the blankets and pulled one tightly around himself, shifting around, trying to find a comfortable spot on the too-short couch. He needed to think logically about this, he’d only known Steve barely more than week.

A _week_. 

_Pull yourself together, Barnes._

***

A soft knock on his door made Steve look up in surprise. 

“Come on in!” he called.

His mom stepped in, smiling a little in the shallow light. Most of the lights in the house had been turned out by now, and the only light in Steve’s room was a small lamp on the bedside table. 

“I just wanted to say goodnight,” she whispered as she walked across the room.

Steve smiled, wrapping his mom in a tight hug, “G’night, _deda_ ,” he said, pecking a quick kiss onto her cheek.

Sah’rea held her son out at arm's length, looking at him seriously and Steve subtly braced himself for whatever might come out of her mouth next.

“Son,” she said slowly, “I just want to say…” she paused, taking a breath and allowing her face to soften slightly, “I like him.”

Steve laughed, feeling something of a weight drop away from him as he said, “I’m glad.”

“You chose a good partner,” she said, standing on her toes to plant a kiss to Steve’s forehead, brushing some hair out of his face as she added, “as far as smugglers go, he seems honest,” she pulled back again, smirking, “More or less.”

Steve chuckled, shrugging, “Like I said, he’s a good guy.”

His mom’s smirk turned more teasing and she raised one eyebrow, “So, when do you get to meet James’s mother, _Steve_?”

He blushed, “Don’t do that,” he demanded, though he laughed through it.

“What? You said it didn’t mean anything,” she said innocently (or insidiously).

“Yeah, but that’s…” he laughed, drifting off as he reached up to rub his temples. He wasn’t sure _what_ his objection was, exactly, though he managed to huff out a quick replacement of, “You’ve always called me Do’oridto.” 

His mother smiled in a way that was almost _too_ knowing (like the look she’d given him a few times throughout the evening, actually), and patted his shoulder, “Whatever you like, son.”

He snorted, looking at the clock on the wall, “I’d _like_ to get some sleep.”

She put her hands up, backing away, “Point made, Do’oridto,” she chuckled.

“Love you, mom,” Steve said.

Sah’rea grinned, “ _Tesno v’vorti_. See you tomorrow.”

Steve smiled and then turned back to his bed as she shut the door again. His room had been more or less emptied of anything personal when he’d left, so now, as far as furnishings went, it was as neutral and plain as a guest bedroom usually was. The one exception was the walls themselves, which were covered on every inch with drawings. Stars and ships and planets, that sort of thing. He’d done it a long, long time ago, and there were parts of it that he couldn’t stand to look at, where the dimensions or the angles had turned out all wrong. But, he supposed, it was all part of home… Though that didn’t stop him from asking his mom to _please_ hang other pictures over top of the worst bits.

James had seemed to have a good time tonight. And his mom liked James. Steve’s smile widened at the hope, and a little bit of the feelings he’d been attempting to sort out while in the cargo bay flared up once more.

Steve turned out the light and rolled under the covers, fluffing his pillow a bit and settling in. The smells of home surrounded him entirely and he couldn’t help but let his mind float a bit as he closed his eyes.

He allowed himself a thought for a moment, and only a moment, imagining on a whim that James could be… _Bucky_. That the two could make a home and go visiting their in-laws and eat dinner and _belong_ together. 

Then the moment passed. 

Steve rolled over onto his other side, and let out a slow breath, pushing his thoughts somewhere, anywhere, else. Reminding himself, again, that this was reality. 

_Keeping it professional, right_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! ^_^ As always, my tumblr askbox is open for screaming at, if you want. (same url and all, definitely just as lame there as here...) ;P
> 
> As usual, shoutout to my amazing beta Ashe, who puts up with me popping up at all hours of the night to ask for feedback (I APPRECIATE YOU, YA PUNK).


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Steve leave Rooklin (finally) and have a job from Dugan to get to. Before that, there are a few... things that James needs to clear up about his past. And after that? Drinking. Lots of drinking. Too much drinking? Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOOOO boy, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals, this chapter was a tRIP (as in "RIP me" lmao... haha...please shoot me into the sun). It is... the LONGEST out of all the chapters thus far, at 6,700 words (GOLLY). I am just. I'm so glad it's done. It wasn't really a pain to write it was just. It's huge. Giant. But I'm so, so happy with how it turned out so!!! ^_^ I hope you all enjoy it, too!!!

By the time they were doing the last checks on _Winter_ before departure the next day, Mrs. Rogers had managed to force into James’ arms no less than five containers filled with her cooking. Of course, at his insistence, he’d managed to give her back three of them(James would have gladly eaten all of it, but there were physiques to be considered). 

With final goodbyes, Sah’rea grabbed Steve and planted a kiss on his cheek, muttering something in Rooklin that made her son laugh (James told himself he better learn the language someday so he wouldn’t have to miss out on what seemed to be all of Mrs. Rogers’ jokes). 

Steve hugged her tightly, saying in Basic, “Take care, _deda_. We’ll be in touch soon, I promise.”

Mrs. Rogers laughed, swatting her son lightly on the arm, “You better be,” she said, before turning to look at James, “And you, Mr. Barnes…”

James smiled, “I mean, I could keep in touch, too, if that’s what you want.”

She smirked, “That’s very sweet, but I thought you were afraid of me?”

“Well, I still am, that’s why I’d rather keep you happy,” James said.

Sah’rea rolled her eyes and grabbed James to pull him closer, standing up on her toes to kiss his cheek, saying, “Keep my son happy, and you’ll keep me happy.”

James laughed, nodding, “Yes, ma’am.”

Steve snorted, “Do I get a say in this, or have you two started a club?”

“Do you get a say in what?” James asked, “Whether or not you’re happy? It’s debatable. Because it looks like you better stay happy if you don’t want your mom to kill me.”

Sah’rea smirked and looked directly at Steve, saying, “ _Erendi tfu’nnos. Ren chse’e tol Steve_.”

Steve blushed and shook his head before looking at her, saying, in what seemed an exasperated tone, “Bye, mom, I love you!”

Steve’s mom laughed again, nodding in resigned understanding, “Safe travels, both of you! _Kharth’ge, Do’oridto_!” she said, before turning away and walking across the docking bay, soon disappearing through the stairway door.

James raised one eyebrow and looked at Steve as the two walked up _Winter’s_ cargo ramp. “What was that last thing your mom said?” he asked.

“‘ _Kharth’ge_ ’? It means ‘farewell’ and ‘see you soon’, basically,” Steve said, his innocent face tinted pink with the leftovers of his blush.

“No, I mean the thing before that,” James said, bumping Steve’s shoulder, teasing (it had to be something embarrassing, right?).

Steve sighed and finally looked at James, “Don’t laugh?” he requested, a fresh blush already forming on his cheeks.

James tossed Steve a small wink as he closed the cargo doors, saying, “I wouldn’t dream of it, Stevie.”

Steve’s eyes darted away, a small smile appearing on his face as he said, “She was teasing me about how you call me ‘Steve’. She said that I…” he laughed, his eyes trailing downward to look at his shoes, his arms crossing in front of him, “I seemed happier. She seems to think the two things are connected. So when you said that I better stay happy, she turned around and said that it would be easy, as long as you kept calling me Steve.”

James laughed, “What does she think ‘Steve’ means?”

Steve shrugged, chuckling a little, though his eyes still avoided James, “I don't know. The… Rooklin language has a lot of things with names, and their meanings, and the ways that names are used to denote importance…”

“Like _Bucky_?” James asked, smirking. 

In record time, Steve’s blush changed from a tinge on his cheeks to a full-face, dark-red mess. The short alien laughed, though, nodding as he said, “Yes. Like that,” he looked up, looking both confused and impressed, “How the hell did you remember that word? You can’t even pronounce my name.”

James snorted, shrugging, “I guess I only remember things that embarrass you. Rooklin or otherwise.”

“Well,” Steve smiled, saying slowly, “ _Bucky_ is actually… It’s a whole cultural thing for the Am’ric, too.”

James’ eyebrows shot up, his mind catching itself on the unfamiliar term, “The… the Am’ric?”

Steve looked over to stare at James for a moment, as if trying to figure out if he was serious. “The…” he spoke hesitantly, pointing at himself and laughing a little, “the pink and red people, Barnes. Pointy ears, usually pretty damn tall, ringing any bells for you?”

James wanted to punch himself in the face and he was very suddenly turning a dark shade of red, “Oh,” he said, nodding, “right, yeah. I…” he laughed, shaking his head, “I thought you were _Rooklin_.”

“Yeah, I am, but that’s kind of a regional thing,” Steve laughed, reaching over to pat James (condescendingly) on the shoulder, “It’s like… race, not nationality, bud. I’m a Rooklin Am’ric. There’s Am’ric from the neighboring system who are Quinsian. Get it?”

James let out a sigh, “Yeah, I got it,” he groaned, giving Steve an apologetic look, “I’m sorry I’m a culturally ignorant jerk.”

Steve shook his head, still smiling like he could laugh at any moment, “Don’t worry about it. At least you’re learning, bud.”

James chuckled, looking down, “That sounds like something my grade-school teacher used to say,” he said, as he and Steve trekked up the stairs.

“What happened yesterday, by the way?” Steve asked, his eyes darkened with concern, “When you were off docking _Winter_?”

James took a quick breath, “It’s a bit of a long story, I’ll explain while we get the ship off-planet. Dugan buzzed me, said he might need a favor and we can’t safely contact him until we’re in empty space.”

Steve nodded and matched his steps to James’ as they walked, and James was trying not to panic, frankly, because… 

He’d done a lot of illegal stuff. However, some of it… 

Some of it was _less_ illegal than, say, other illegal things he may have done. 

On the opposite end, the things he and Tasha had been involved in had been on the scale of _more_ illegal, if there was such a thing. Or possibly just more dangerous, because the lines got rather blurry after a while.

And, of course, how much of that was he going to tell Steve.

_No_ , he knew what he had to do. _No more secrets_. 

He was going to be better. And if that meant letting some things go…

***

“So, what, he was some kind of agent? How the hell did he find us?” Steve asked, frowning deeply.

They’d broken orbit and were heading out into deeper space, where a transmission to Dugan would be safest. And the recounted story of this “Clint” guy wasn’t doing anything for Steve’s already strained nerves, because although he was getting better at takeoffs, he still felt a little queasy watching the sky fall away. 

James let out a low breath and turned to look at Steve from his spot in the pilot’s chair, “Maybe Carter?” he suggested, shrugging, “She knew we were on our way here. Meaning the GM knew,” he brushed a hand back through his hair and said, “But I don’t suppose it matters _how_. The important part is what he was after.”

Steve snorted a little, crossing his arms over his chest, “If he was looking for smuggled goods, he was a little late, wasn’t he?”

He had hoped that the joke might lighten the mood. James’ attitude had grown only darker since they had started talking about this. 

But James didn’t laugh. In fact, the comment seemed to drive him only deeper into his moodiness. He bit his lower lip as he turned on the autopilot, saying quietly, “No, he wasn’t after smuggled goods. He was looking for… my old partner.”

Steve nodded a little, his stomach sinking, “The ex-assassin?” 

How was Steve ever going to live up to the standard of James’s previous partner? When everybody in the fucking galaxy had apparently heard of her?

James’ eyebrows flicked upwards as he said, “Not really ‘ex’ anymore, from what I’ve heard.”

“So what did you tell the agent guy?” Steve asked.

“The truth,” he glanced over to meet Steve’s eyes, saying firmly, “I don’t know where she is, what she’s been doing. I haven’t for a long time.”

Well, that was comforting, at least.

“Steve, I just…” James continued, running a thumb along his palm as he fidgeted with nervous energy, “I wanted to… to let you know exactly what it was that happened. Between me and her.”

“You really don’t have to, James,” Steve said quickly.

“No, I do,” the smuggler said, shaking his head and turning his seat so he was facing Steve directly, “because it’s not fair to you to keep dancing around it whenever it comes up. Secrets can kill a partnership.”

Steve nodded hesitantly, “Alright,” he said, settling deeper into his seat and trying for a bit of relaxation, despite the tension running through every muscle of his back.

James looked down at his hands as his fingers continued to fidget restlessly, beginning slowly, “When I first left the military and was trying my hand at smuggling, I… I had a few different partners,” he looked up, a small, sheepish smile in place, “Maybe more than a ‘few’. But none of them stuck around long. Hell, even Dugan tried it out for a bit, but it just didn’t work.”

Steve snorted, “That’s a hell of a track record.”

“I know,” James laughed (though it sounded almost forced), “Dum Dum’s worried about your odds, maybe you should be, too.”

“Well, I’m not big on statistics,” Steve said quietly, only half-attempting at a humorous tone.

James nodded, looking down again, continuing in a more sedated tone, “About two years into the smuggling bit I met…” he paused a moment, clearly weighing his words carefully, “Natasha,” he finally said, the name falling simply off his lips, resting in the air for a moment before he continued, “though she was better known around the underground as ‘Black Widow’, part of an assassin ring called the Red Room.”

Steve frowned, “I’ve never heard of them…”

James smiled ruefully, still looking anywhere but at Steve, “They’re not nearly as eager to talk about themselves as Hydra is. Secrecy is necessary with their business, I guess…” he sighed, “Except, when I met her, Tasha… Natasha wasn’t working for them anymore. She’d gotten out by the skin of her teeth and managed to stay hidden through a long series of fake identities.” 

Steve, (taking quick note of the nickname which James had slipped on) raised an eyebrow, “So you and her teamed up?”

James nodded, “It was complicated. She made me a job offer that I…” he rubbed his eyes, letting out a short puff of breath, “I couldn’t say no to it. And she was just lucky enough to find the one smuggler in the galaxy crazy enough to go along with it, because it was basically a suicide mission with very little monetary payoff.”

Oh, that was comforting. 

“What was the job?” Steve asked, his voice much quieter than he meant for it to be.

“Well,” James said, clearing his throat a little, “first step was to locate a bunch of bases on scattered asteroids and space stations. Pretty easy, Natasha had contacts in the underground who heard stuff. The second step, though, was a little more…” James paused for a disconcerting amount of time.

“Dangerous?” Steve offered.

“Step two was sneaking into these bases and getting out with prisoners, undetected if we could,” James said, in a low, fast voice. It was like he was ripping the bandage off.

Steve blinked a few times, “ _Prisoners_?” he asked.

“Not _legal_ prisoners,” James clarified, “more like hostages, really. Most of them were kids.”

James’ clarification wasn’t making this story any clearer.

“ _Kids_?” Steve could feel his stomach dropping, “Who was holding them? Why couldn’t the military or _someone_ get them out?”

“A few different dark and dirty factions were involved, it was intergalactic gang stuff. I don’t think the military really knew what was happening or, if they did, clearly they couldn’t stop it,” James hesitated momentarily, “They were using the kids as test subjects.”

Steve let out a low breath, his mind battling horrified thoughts. Stolen kids in dark laboratories. _Kids_ being used like lab rats. Treated like… like sub-people and… 

He stopped his whirling thoughts, trying to concentrate on the present. 

“How did she know about them?” Steve asked, his tone calm. He was surprised at himself.

James raised his eyebrows, “Natasha?”

“Yeah, how did she know about the kids? If the military didn’t?”

The smuggler looked down at his hands, saying simply, “The Red Room was one of the groups I mentioned. Tasha was…” James cleared his throat, “she used to _be_ just like those kids. And nobody got her out.”

“Oh,” Steve said, his own eyes darting away to look out the main viewport.

He didn’t know what more to say, or how to respond. “I’m sorry” seemed like too little, or maybe even too much, considering he wasn’t even talking to the victim.

“We did okay,” James continued in a quiet voice, “We barely scraped by, money-wise, but still we managed to keep the ship flying by taking odd smuggling jobs here and there,” he laughed mirthlessly, “Hero work doesn’t pay. But we didn’t care, really. Because we got a fair number of kids out… not all of them, but…” 

The last statement, murmured thoughtfully, is what drew Steve’s gaze back to James. The smuggler was staring at the floor, his whole body still except for his fidgeting hands. 

“I thought… that things were going well,” James continued, “I thought that Tasha had… started…t-to move beyond the things the Red Room had made her into, that she…” he drifted off, shaking his head.

Steve hardly breathed. He didn’t know what James was thinking about, but there was an unfamiliar distance in his eyes. It was like Steve wasn’t even _there_ , James may well have been speaking to an empty room. 

Finally, James said, “I found out that she was taking bounties again. That she had organized smuggling drops and pickups so she could get close to targets. That was how we were _really_ getting enough cash to keep going,” he inhaled slowly, “I found out that she was trickling funds into my account. Only small amounts, so I wouldn’t notice…” James stopped, still staring at the ground.

Steve could barely speak above a whisper, “She lied to you.”

James sighed, “When I confronted her about it, she didn’t even try to deny it. And then everything collapsed in on us,” he ran a hand over his brow, shaking his head, “not just between me and her, but the entire infrastructure of our plan. The facilities we were raiding finally tracked a few sources and found out that Tasha had been poking around, asking questions she shouldn’t have been asking. Next they traced it all back to a Howler class ship and all of the sudden I had people breathing down my neck.” 

Steve didn’t have to know specifics to understand. This was the kind of story that always ended with people dead, “How’d you get out?”

“Tasha,” James said simply, “She cut all ties with me, disappeared completely, and stole half my money. For a couple weeks, I thought she’d left me for dead, but then I got a message,” he took a deep breath, “All it said was, ‘Now we’re even’ signed ‘B.W.’,” he snorted, a chuckle surfacing out of nowhere as he added, in a mutter, “‘ _Black Widow’_. Assassins are always so fucking dramatic,” he laughed (even though, to Steve at least, he didn’t seem happy at all). 

Steve swallowed, asking quickly, “What did she do?” 

James shrugged, his eyes at last blinking and coming to rest on Steve’s face again. He was starting to act more like himself. “I don’t know specifics. My only guess is that she went back to the underground and told everyone about how she’d ripped off a smuggler. How she’d masterminded this whole plan and how clueless I was about the whole thing. Took all the blame for it, as far as I can figure. But that’s the last I saw of her.” He turned to look at Steve, meeting his eyes with more than a little hesitance.

Steve could see… fear? Apprehension? Maybe worry over how he was going to take all this information?

But… James hadn’t done anything wrong (except the illegal stuff, but that was nothing new), so there really wasn’t much that Steve could take away from the story. Except maybe that there was a reason James played it… safer.

Steve smiled faintly, letting out a long breath (had he been breathing so shallowly this whole time?), “That’s one hell of a job,” he said simply, hoping that the statement could stand in for all the things he meant (“I understand”, “I don’t care”, “I’m so glad you got out of that alive”). 

James nodded, scratching the back of his neck with a faint smile that made Steve think that, yeah, he understood his meaning. “She was a hell of a partner.”

Something in Steve’s chest crashed. There was fondness in James’ tone, a part-way softness that Steve hadn’t detected earlier. And it gave him the sneaking suspicion that in Natasha’s case, “partner” could mean every variation of itself.

James glanced over at Steve, smirking a little, “But she was nothing compared to you… punk.”

Steve snorted, “What’s with the big compliments?” he teased, raising an eyebrow, “Worried I’ll tell my mom something bad about you?”

James laughed (it sounded far more natural this time, to Steve’s relief) and leaned forward to give Steve an earnest look, “Yes,” he said firmly, before breaking into a smile and turning back to his control panel, “What do you say we get our lazy asses a job, eh?”

Steve’s smile grew, “Sounds good.”

While James input the codes for contacting Dugan, Steve couldn’t help but stare. It was as if James himself was lighter, his smile easier and his shoulders more relaxed. 

“Dum Dum!” James said, as the fur-covered face appeared on the viewscreen. 

“Barnes, Roge’ehrs, how’d the Baarocki moon gig work for ya?” Dugan asked.

James shrugged, “We’re still flying. What’s up, you got another job?”

Dum Dum laughed, twisting his mustache with one hand, “You’re not gonna like it.”

James sighed loudly from beside Steve, who frowned, glancing hesitantly between Dum Dum and James, “What is it?”

James pursed his lips, “Swear to _god_ , Dugan, if this is a listing from that damn site…”

Dum Dum laughed again and Steve thought he saw a flash of guilt in Dugan’s eyes, “Yeah, it is.”

James leaned back in his chair, groaning loudly, “ _Daaaaamnit, Dugan_.”

“It’s legitimate this time, I swear!” Dum Dum assured, raising his voice to be heard over James’ complaining, an amused smile still on his face.

Steve’s frown deepened, “What site are you talking about?”

“It’s--” Dugan started, before he was cut off by James.

“A shit-hole site that lets people advertise things they have for sale,” James said loudly, rolling his eyes as he turned to Steve, adding, “Every time he has asked me to pick something up for him, I end up stuck somewhere.”

Steve looked at Dugan, “What is it you want us to pick up?”

“No, don’t _encourage_ this!” James said, affronted.

Dum Dum chuckled, “A guy out in the Cozuno system has a couple crates of Zasplesterin and Ebyphthol.”

Steve raised one eyebrow, “For closing wounds and treating fevers?”

“That’s the stuff. How’d you know?” Dum Dum asked, looking impressed.

Steve shrugged, “My mom’s a nurse.” (Nevermind that it was actually because of Steve’s marvelous history of childhood illness and fighting in alleyways.)

James crossed his arms over his chest, addressing Dum Dum, “What makes you think this guy is actually real?”

“I contacted him. He’s got official documents, inventory numbers and everything. Says he was scavenging around a bombed out medical facility when he found the crates.”

“Oh, great, a scavenger,” James muttered.

Steve smiled faintly, whispering pointedly, “ _Smuggler_.”

James shot him a look, but said nothing. 

“So,” Dum Dum said, clearing his throat, “Are you in for it? I’ve got plenty of buyers, the market price on medical supplies has only been going up.”

“Yeah, what _hasn’t_ been going up,” James muttered, sighing resignedly, looking at Steve, “What d’ya think, Steve? We in?”

Steve bit his lip, taking a deep breath. It _sounded_ fine. Medical supplies were a necessity, and he knew enough from his mom to confirm what Dugan had said about prices going up. 

All the same, he met James’ eyes with a cautious look. He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question. _“Are YOU in?”_. 

James nodded once, smiling faintly.

Steve shrugged, saying, “Yeah, I’d say we’re in.”

Tossing Steve a wink before he turned back to look at Dum Dum, James sighed out,“Alright, we’re in. Send over the coordinates and information. Let the seller know he’s got a buyer. We're out by Rooklin right now, it'll take a few days.”

Dum Dum grinned, “I will,” he chuckled a little, as if suddenly realizing what James had said, “Rooklin to Cozuno, that takes nine days, doesn't it?”

James raised his eyebrows, smirking challengingly, “ _Winter_ could make it in less. You wanna time me, Dugan?”

“Let’s not get overexcited, I want your ship there in one piece, Barnes,” Dum Dum said, shaking his head.

James nodded, tossing Dugan a salute, “Yes, sir, no excitement over here.”

Dum Dum rolled his eyes, “You’re full of shit, Barnes,” he nodded to Steve, “Keep an eye on him, Steve.”

Steve mimicked James’ salute with a fair sprinkling of sarcasm, saying, “Yes, sir.” 

Dum Dum sighed longsufferingly, “Let me rephrase. You’re _both_ full of shit. And I don’t wanna know what the two of you are gonna be like after nine days stuck in a ship together,” he smiled, “I’ll be in touch.”

James waved a farewell before hanging up the call. “Well, it appears we’ve got some time on our hands,” he said as he set their course, tossing Steve a mischievous grin, “I’m open to suggestions for passing the time.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot upward, “You kidding? I spent a significant part of my childhood sick in bed, I’ve got endless suggestions.”

James bit his lip, laughing and shaking his head. 

Shrugging, Steve added, “Although, back then it was usually just me scribbling doodles in a sketchbook or reading or…” he hesitated before saying firmly, “Y’know, my suggestions are lame. Nevermind.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t discount them that easily,” James said, chuckling as he worked out a flight path, his back to Steve, “I mean, I could volunteer to be a nude model. You ever take a life drawing class?”

Steve’s eyes widened and, from the sheer pressure of awkward nervousness that suddenly dunked into his mind, a laugh slipped past his lips. 

“I don’t think that’s, um,” he cleared his throat, still laughing ( _fuck_ , was it rude to be laughing? Stars, could he please just stop laughing?), “that’s not necessary.”

James turned to look over his shoulder, his face pulled into an over-dramatic “insulted” scowl, “I am _offended_. I am in _top_ physical condition. But,” he lifted a finger and waved it through the air to punctuate his point, “most of all, I am a little bit hurt. Am I not good enough? Is it someone else?”

Steve nodded soberly, “It is. You know, the little elf that lives down in the cargo bay? It’s him.”

James frowned, “I thought that was _you_? Small? Pink? Pointy ears? Kinda adorable when he’s not glaring at everything?” he said, tossing Steve a wink as he clambered to his feet (giving Steve’s shoulder a light slap as he did).

Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he climbed to his feet to follow James down the narrow metal steps, “ _Adorable_?” he asked.

James turned to face him, biting his lip and raising his eyebrows, “Is there something the matter, Rogers?”

Steve crossed his arms, “Oh, nothing, nothing.”

James chuckled, turning to walk to his bunk once again.

“You know why I _really_ don’t need you to life model for me, Barnes?” Steve asked.

“Why?” James asked, looking over his shoulder, seeming surprised by the sudden change of topic.

Steve smiled teasingly, “Well, I’ve already seen everything from the waist up,” he gestured vaguely at James’ chest as he walked past him, “and from there, Mr.Tightpants, it leaves _very_ little to the imagination.”

James laughed, his cheeks blushing a very pale pink, “You must have a good imagination,” he furrowed his brows and said firmly, “My pants aren’t _that_ tight.”

Steve smirked, sitting down in his bunk and saying, in a quietly sing-song voice, “I’ve got sketches that say otherwise,” with a significant look up and down James.

He didn’t have any sketches of the sort. But there wasn’t a single reason for James to know that (yet). 

James raised his eyebrows again, staring at Steve for a moment. Finally, he turned away and leaned into his bunk to grab something, yelling over his shoulder, “Enjoy the view, Rogers!”

Steve laughed and looked away, rolling his eyes as he dug out his sketchbook (to sketch anything that wasn’t James Barnes’ ass).

Nine days, huh? 

***

“I told Dugan. I _told_ him,” James said, picking sticks out of his dark hair, dragging a crate behind him as he and Steve trudged through the underbrush, “I swear I’ll murder the hairy bastard.”

Steve snorted, “I mean, the guy _did_ have the supplies he listed.”

From somewhere above their heads, a… _something_ chirped. Or clicked. James really didn’t want to know. He looked up with gritted teeth.

There was a…

Well, he wasn’t sure what it was, but it looked enough like a monkey to illicit flashbacks to a different mission Dugan had sent him on many years before.

James grimaced, making a sickened noise back in his throat.

Steve looked over, “What is it?” he asked. The shorter man had a leaf sticking out of his hair, pointing straight upwards. It wobbled as he turned his gaze upwards to look at the monkey-thing.

James shook his head, saying simply, “I don’t like wildlife. Let’s just keep moving,” even as he continued walking

“What was that, some kind of raccoon?” Steve asked.

“As long as it’s not shitting on me, I couldn’t care less,” James murmured.

There was still a couple miles to walk before they got to town. This job was not going as planned.

“I’m gonna need a drink after this one, Stevie,” James said morosely, yanking his crate free as it got caught on _another_ root. 

Steve laughed (how the _hell_ did this guy still have enough energy to laugh?), “That’s fair.”

James looked over at his partner, gazing into the bright, amused eyes, taking in the stupid leaf sticking out of his hair and the smudge of grime on Steve’s nose from the air vent he had crawled through (this job had _really_ not gone well). Here they were, dragging singed-looking crates of medical supplies through the backwoods, and somehow… Steve was still smiling.

Stars, this guy was some kind of miracle. James had brought on partners who were twice as tall and physically strong as Steve, and they had quit in a couple weeks, but this guy… 

This skinny punk from a grungy alleyway, he was here.

A smile finally broke onto James’ face and he looked away, “Realistically, we’ll be back in town in, what? An hour and a half?” he nodded, “Just in time for dinner, ya think?”

Steve nodded his agreement, then asked, tilting his head back the way they had come, “You don’t think he’ll follow us?”

“What’s he gonna do?” James asked, scoffing, “I doubt he’ll be getting out of that broom closet for a while. The electro-magnetic seal should last about eight hours.”

Steve let out a breath, “Good. He was a little unnerving.”

James laughed.

“Unnerving” was an understatement. 

How the hell had he ended up with the embodiment of…whatever the hell Steve was… and how could James make sure that he stuck around forever?

***

James drank too much. 

Granted, he drank just as much as Steve did, but the main difference was that Steve _couldn’t_ get drunk (thank you, Am’ric physiology, for the ability to process alcohol without the fun side effects). 

But now Steve was walking to the ship, with James at his side. One of James’ arms was draped over Steve’s shoulders, because apparently James got downright cuddly when he was drunk.

“Shit, Steve, I think… I forgot m’wallet,” James slurred (for the second time since they had started their walk).

Steve sighed, “No, you didn’t. I have it.”

He’d taken it away after the last round of drinks (the bartender had looked a little insulted). 

“Really? Thankser, bud,” James grinned, patting Steve’s shoulder appreciatively.

Steve shook his head, smiling very slightly, “You’re welcome,” he said as he slowed to a stop next to _Winter_.

“Ahhh, lookit ‘er,” James said, as Steve stepped out from under his arm to input the lock codes for the ramp. James was staring up at the ship, reaching up to brush a hand along the underside, “Isn’it amazing? No better ship in’e whole galaxy.”

Steve chuckled, “Getting sappy, Barnes?”

“Pfft,” James snorted, grinning at Steve, “If I got sappy, I’d besayin’ that you’re the best thing’ta ever happen ta me. ‘Cause you’re a miracl’ ‘er somethin’.”

Steve nodded a little, laughing as the ramp clanked down into position, “Oh, I see. I guess you’re not drunk enough for that.”

James smiled and tossed an arm around Steve’s shoulders again as they walked up into _Winter_ ’s cargo bay, “I dunno. I’m pretty drunk.”

Steve smirked, saying quietly, “A very pretty drunk.”

James shoved him a little, “I’m not pretty.”

Chuckling, Steve stopped at the door control panel, gesturing at the stairs, “You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” he said, pressing the lockdown keys for the ramp.

James made a “hmmmph” sound that Steve supposed meant _something_ to his partner’s drink-addled brain. It must have been some sort of agreement, though, because James walked to the steps (stumbling a little on the first one), and more or less lurched his way to the top. Steve followed behind him a moment later, after the doors closed with a definitive “clunk”. 

When Steve entered the main cabin of the ship, he was greeted with the sight of his partner sitting on the floor next to his bunk, wrestling with getting his boots off. 

James smiled up at him blearily, saying, “How’sit, Stevie?”

Steve returned the smile and walked over to the kitchen unit, pressing a button to slide the panel back. He grabbed a cup and filled it up with water, then grabbed one of the dry protein “crackers” (it was the texture of a cracker, and it tasted primarily like sawdust, but it included most of the basic food groups, apparently). 

Turning back around, he walked over to James (who’d managed to get his boots and jacket off and pile them on the floor nearby) and offered both to the drunken smuggler.

“Eat and drink something so you don’t hate yourself in the morning,” Steve ordered.

James frowned, but accepted both items without complaint. 

Steve smiled a little and walked to his side of the room, taking a seat on his bunk to remove his own boots. Then he tossed his jacket into a storage compartment and set about changing into sleeping clothes. The clothes he had on now weren’t nearly as dirty as the ones he’d trekked through the woods in. _Those_ were in the shower along with James’, waiting to be cleaned. 

As Steve unbuttoned his shirt, he glanced idly over at James, checking to see if he was eating and drinking. And there were good signs, as the cracker was nearly gone.

When he saw Steve looking at him, James said (past a mouthful of cracker), “I mighf need some helf,” he tilted his head back to rest it on his bed, finishing his mouthful before saying, “The room’s a bit… _wooooo_.”

Steve shook his head, tossing his shirt on his bed and removing his belt, “You shouldn’t drink so much. Finish your water.”

James giggled, but took a large swig of water all the same. “Y’know you’re prob’ly right.”

Steve tossed James a glance, saying, “You think you’ll remember any of this tomorrow?”

“Pfft,” James snorted, popping the last bite of cracker into his mouth, which Steve took to mean “probably not”.

“Then you won’t remember right now when I tell you to take your shirt and belt off before you go to sleep?” Steve asked, flushing slightly.

James slept shirtless all the time. It wasn’t weird to remind drunk-him to stay comfortable, right?

“I would be _glad_ to take my shirt off for you,” James said, grinning, with an amount of sincerity that made Steve blush even more. It wasn’t teasing (as far as Steve could tell). Frankly, it would have been better if James had just outright laughed at him. 

But, no. Now he was setting down his water and pulling his shirt off with all the enthusiasm he had.

Steve shook his head, turning away to both hide his burning face and attempt to find his usual loose sleeping pants. Once found, he continued looking at anything except for James as he continued to change.

He was interrupted before he could begin his quest for a shirt by James’ slurred speech.

“Alrigh’,” the smuggler said, setting the now-empty cup down on the floor beside him, “sleep. That’s a good idea.”

Steve walked over, offering a hand to help the other man up, “C’mon, fatass, into bed,” he said, chuckling.

James grabbed onto his hand and stumbled to his feet for a moment, before he crashed into his bunk. Steve laughed again and walked over to the control panel for the lights while James tugged blankets around himself.

Once the overhead lights were out, it left only the dim glow from the cockpit lights. Steve could still hear James shuffling around.

“‘Ey, Steve?” 

Steve raised his eyebrows (despite the expression being unreadable in the dark) and replied, “Yeah, bud?”

“Couldja maybe help me out wi’the blankets?” James sounded groggy, as if he was already falling asleep.

Chuckling, Steve walked across to James’ bed (taking extra care not to trip over the piles of discarded clothing items on the floor around it), saying softly, “Sure, bud.”

“Y’know ya could just sleep here,” James said.

“On the ship? Generous of you,” Steve laughed.

James grabbed Steve’s shoulder, saying, “Nah, nah, I meant here…”

One moment Steve was leaning into the bunk, the next he was _in_ the bunk. James dragged Steve all the way _over_ his body in one motion as he grabbed onto Steve’s shoulders and rolled onto his side. And, suddenly, Steve was trapped between a sleepy, drunk smuggler and the wall.

He tensed immediately, moving away from James’ face (which was suddenly so close that Steve could feel his breaths grazing softly over his cheeks), and stammered out, “James, I’m--”

“It’s fine, Steve,” James murmured, his words slurring even more with sleep, “jus’ platonic cuddlin’.”

Steve relaxed only slightly, if only because he was realizing that James wouldn’t be awake to argue with for much longer, anyway. He weighed his options carefully…

He could wait a few minutes and then try to sneak back to his own bed, but that would require him to crawl _over_ James, and that wouldn’t be easy in the dark.

Or he slept here. Not really anything wrong with that, was there? Sure, it was a little cramped, but not more than Steve could handle. And it’s not like he was doing anything inappropriate, and James was essentially out cold, so there wasn’t anything that _he_ would be trying on Steve. Not that Steve would expect anything of the sort. 

So… Steve sighed out a quick breath before settling down more, stealing a corner of the pillow from James and tucking the blankets around himself.

Just before falling asleep, Steve wondered vaguely whether James would remember any of this when he woke up.

***

Upon waking, the feeling in James’ skull was very similar to a Gerkritian gong ceremony (oh, lot’s of smashing and at least one screaming hawk wielding a hammer). He groaned and wiped a hand across his face as he rolled out of his bunk. 

_Stars_ , he must’ve dragged himself back to the ship. 

His pants slipped down his ass and he vaguely realized (while walking toward the bathroom) that his belt was missing.

“Nice moon out today.”

James jumped, snatching at the waistband of his pants and turning around so quickly it made his head spin. 

“ _Shit_!” he said (eloquently), blinking a few times as he met Steve’s eyes.

Steve. _Steve_. Was in his bed. 

“Steve, you fucking…” James stammered out, his mind swimming in facts even as he tried to formulate complete thoughts, “Bed. _Bed,_ you-you’re…in my bed?”

Steve smirked, stretching out a little, looking perfectly comfortable. (Without a shirt? Why wasn’t he wearing a shirt? Didn’t he always sleep in a shirt?) 

“You don’t remember me taking you home last night?”

Steve’s word choice was startling at best. (“Taking you home” had to be a euphemism in at least five cultures.)

The short alien continued, “Usually I wake up to the sunrise, but a full moon isn’t so bad, I guess,” he smiled and James could swear there was a vicious gleam to it. The little shit’s tone was just _dripping_ with snarkiness.

James let out a breath, running a hand back through his hair while his other hand continued holding his pants up, “I need…” _fuck_ , he needed at least ten different things, “um, I gotta go.”

He _wasn’t_ running. But he may have… walked very, very quickly out of the main cabin (with Steve smiling benignly after him). He just needed a minute. Stars, he’d only just woken up and he was a fair bit hungover, so this was really just _too much_ to ask of his brain. 

Retreating into the bathroom, he closed the door and leaned against it, taking a few mind-clearing breaths.

“Did Steve and I… did we?” he stammered the words out, hoping that voicing them could reduce the clutter in his hazy mind. He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples furiously as he tried to remember.

“What the hell happened, Barnes?” he muttered. 

He didn’t… He didn’t _think_ he’d done anything. The last thing he remembered clearly was Steve acting distinctly not drunk at the bar. 

If Steve was sober, that was a good thing. That was safe.

But if he _had_ been drunk…

He’d implied that he remembered what had happened… 

Oh, shit, what had James done? He walked forward to the sink to splash some cold water over his face in an attempt to wake himself up.

“Ok, ok, ok,” he said quickly, as water still dripped from his face, blinking open his eyes and meeting his reflection’s gaze levelly, “you’re gonna go out there and learn the truth. Just don’t let him know how blackout drunk you were, right?”

The last thing he needed was for Steve to feel guilty about “taking advantage” of James while he was drunk. Especially when James knew “taking advantage” was hardly the appropriate term, since he had a _huge fucking crush on the guy_. 

Face the danger. Find the truth. Don’t let on how little you know. Easy, right?

***

Steve thought about letting the joke go on for as long as he could keep it. But… 

He ended up telling James what _actually_ happened by the end of the day. 

Not to say that James hadn’t been persistent in his attempts to learn the truth (while simultaneously acting like he remembered everything), trying all day via roundabout questions and snooping glances.

But, eventually, Steve had to let the poor guy off the hook. He even promised not to tell the rest of the Commandos about it. 

God knows they’d never let it go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things the author wants to point out to everyone:   
> 1)Yes, it's Space Craigslist. Dum Dum Dugan shops on Space Craigslist.   
> 2)James Barnes: *tries flirting* ";) So, Steve, it seems we got some time on our hands ;) ;) ;) any suggestions?"   
> Steve: "Well, we could read some books, maybe... or play a puzzle game..."  
> James Barnes: *now crying on the inside* "Oh my god is he absolutely oblivious?? Why do I have a crush on this dumbass??"  
> 3)I'm not gonna say that thing in the woods might have been an unaltered Rocket Raccoon, but... *eyes emoji*  
> 4) James Barnes is a "commando" in more ways than one.  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> Thank you all for being so patient with my update schedule, and all of the continued feedback and support in between has been really wonderful!!! And this chapter marked a big moment for this fic, as it pushed the page count over 100 in my Google Docs (oh, golly wolly, how did a joke fic bring me here? ^_^), and by the time I'm done the next chapter, the word count will be over 50,000. Wow. Okie dokie. 
> 
> As usual, I give a huge shoutout to my beta!! (They were the one who inspired the "James Barnes accidentally flashes his partner while hungover" bit and I love them with all my heart for it.)   
> Thanks for reading!!! :D And the next chapter will be updated??? *distant screaming* *laser fire laser fire* *explosion* (soon? I hope?)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Steve get a new mission from a couple of friends - a supply drop over in Asgardian territory. However, the whole thing has some... complications about it. Like getting the cargo. And not getting their asses kicked in a sort of gross pub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god. oh my god. I'm... *hides in a trashcan* so. sorry. about the wait. my class has been BRUTAL with reading and assignments and aaaahhhhhhhhhh??? All I can say is I LOVE YOU ALL so freaking much and thank you thank you THANK YOU for being patient and always leaving me kudos and comments and encouraging me to continue this madness!!! ^_^ I am honestly just always overjoyed and overwhelmed with your kindness and I have NO IDEA how to express to you all how much it means to me!!   
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

The bright industrial lamps outside filled the cargo bay with harsh light as Steve walked across to where James stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He thought he could see James’ eyes flicker momentarily over to look at him before returning to watch the open bay door.

“That’s another job done,” James murmured, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched the crew of tall Vindcree workmen (each about nine feet tall and nothing but gangling arms and legs) shuffle out with three large crates of Kaccarien fungus (it was illegal in this sector, but _highly_ in demand for medical reasons).

Steve nodded, grinning widely (he couldn’t help himself), “I mean, compared to our last job, it went-”

James shushed him softly, elbowing Steve, a single finger raised in a “hold that thought” manner. 

Steve raised his eyebrows, looking across the bay just in time to see the last workman step away from the cargo ramp. 

James practically jumped over to the control panel to close the doors before he finally turned back to Steve, laughing, “You _never_ say a job is going well until the last stranger leaves the ship,” James said, though there was a spark of amusement in his eyes that told Steve he was messing around, “too much can go wrong.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Oh, sorry, right, I forgot about all the terrible things that might happen in that last thirty seconds. My bad.”

James laughed and clapped Steve on the shoulder as they made their way up the stairs, changing the subject suddenly, “How do you feel about piloting _Winter_ off the planet?”

Steve blinked, his smile disappearing, “What? _Me_?”

“Yeah, if you feel up to it,” James said, stepping into the passageway that led to the main cabin, “you’ve got all the controls down by now, and you’ve done really, really well with your open space flying and dropping into orbit.”

“I mean,” Steve floundered for words for a moment as he took a deep breath, a nervous feeling settling into his abdomen as he stepped into the cabin after James, “do you think I’m ready?” 

It had only been three weeks since his first flying lesson. And James had pretty regularly swapped seats with Steve since then, he claimed that Steve was catching on quick but Steve himself was…

Unsure. 

He had thrown up the first time James had taken off. 

James put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “You’re ready,” he said earnestly, “And I’ll be right there with you, bud, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Ok,” Steve said, before he could even really grasp the full weight of his agreement (not because he was lost in James’ eyes or anything, no, that would be stupid). 

But, wow, were those some _good_ eyes that James happened to have.

Coincidentally.

By random chance.

Was he blushing? Fuck, the cabin environmental controls must be malfunctioning. (Did James’ hand have to sit on his shoulder so long?)

James grinned and gave Steve a nod, “Perfect. Let’s get going, right?” he said, practically _skipping_ across the cabin to climb up to the cockpit. 

Steve followed, slower, to take James’ usual spot in the pilot’s chair and strapped himself in. By now his stomach was dancing through all the little loops and knots it usually did when he knew they were going to be taking off, except this time it was like the tempo had been increased to the same speed as one of those river-dance-type-numbers.

“Deep breaths,” James said from beside him.

Steve laughed nervously, “Breathing. Right,” he said, huffing out a quick exhale before murmuring, “Here’s hoping I don’t kill us, right?”

“You’re not gonna kill us, I’m gonna talk you through it.” James said, a small chuckle hedging his otherwise sincere tone.

Only one way to find out.

Steve leaned forward and clicked the comm panel to life, saying in a firm, clear voice, “This is _Winter's Heart_ , zero-delta-nine-one-five, here, needing permission to disembark.”

The clearance came back positive and Steve huffed out another breath before taking the ship controls lightly in his hands and turning to look at James, “Ready for instructions, captain.”

James leaned back in his seat (how the hell was he so calm?) and said, “Step one: hold onto your butts.”

Steve laughed, “Is that what they taught you in the GM?”

James winked, “Something like that.”

Steve somehow doubted that, but at this point he didn’t much care. 

***

The flight out of the atmosphere wasn’t the smoothest James had ever been on, but they didn’t crash (not that James had ever thought that remotely possibly) and their pilot didn’t throw up (now that one he might have been a little worried about), so he was inclined to call it a success. 

Once free of atmo, Steve switched controls over to the autopilot and turned to give James a dirty look, his eyebrows furrowing in the middle as he crossed his arms. 

“What?” James asked, his eyes widening. 

“So, what, you were just trying to impress me on the first day, is that it?” Steve asked.

James could feel his face turning red and he looked away quickly, “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

He knew exactly what Steve was saying, and he wouldn’t admit it. Nope.

“Like hell you don’t!” Steve said loudly, “I _assumed_ that taking off took some kind of special method, some extra _oomf_ , ya know? I figured that all this time you had to pull off some kind of extra effort to _not_ go all over the fucking sky, whipping around and blasting your way out of the damn clouds!”

James buried his face in his hands, a laugh escaping from his throat even as embarrassment blazed on his cheeks, “ _Fine_ , yes, ok?” he said, the words somewhat muffled past his hands and his own chuckling, “I was trying _damn_ hard to impress you and it blew up in my face!”

There was a moment of pause and James lowered his hands to see Steve staring at him, frowning. 

“No, wait, you were _actually_ …” Steve spoke slowly, narrowing his eyes and gesturing a hand lamely between them, “ _You_ were trying to impress _me_?”

James laughed again, running a hand back through his hair, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? You’re-”

A loud, repeating beeping interrupted his thoughts (somewhat thankfully because those kinds of embarrassing confessions were best made while drunk) and he straightened up to look at the viewscreen. 

Spotting the familiar scrambled letters, James nudged Steve with a soft, “Commandos. Go ahead and answer it.”

Steve leaned over to accept the transmission and a moment later Gabe Jones and Dernier appeared on the other end of the call. 

James grinned, “Now what would two jerks like you need today?”

Gabe rolled his eyes, “Hell of a way to introduce us to your partner, Barnes.”

“And who’s fault is that? You two are never around at base when we’re there,” James pointed out, glancing at Steve for a moment before continuing, “But, since you insist. Stevie, meet the jerks.” He waved a hand in presentation, gesturing at the viewscreen.

Dernier growled out a low rumble of words, shoving Jones lightly with one of his armored elbows.

Jones laughed, “ _Stevie_ , is it? Nice to meet you. Gabe Jones,” he gestured at his partner with one hand, “and this is Dernier. Or, apparently, we’re just Jerk-1 and Jerk-2, now…” the black man gave James a pointed, dirty look, eliciting a chuckle from Dernier.

Steve laughed, “Nice to meet you both.”

James cleared his throat a little, “So, I know you boys didn’t call just to talk nice with my partner. What’s up?”

Dernier grumbled something in a low voice and Gabe snorted, “Yeah, Barnes, speak for yourself, we just want to chat up Steve.”

Steve laughed again, glancing at James with a sarcastic, “I didn’t know I was so popular, I’m flattered.”

When James only raised his eyebrows at this, Gabe sighed out a low breath.

“Ok, maybe we… need a favor. And Dugan said you were in the neighborhood.”

That sounded more believable. James smiled, “What went wrong this time?”

Gabe chewed on the inside of his cheek, saying slowly, “We might have… been spotted leaving the Veludri system without clearance.”

James’ eyebrows shot upwards and he flicked his gaze over to look at Steve. The shorter alien was looking about as shocked as he was. 

“Are you fuckin’ nuts, Jones?” James asked, entirely serious.

That was a Hydra-controlled system that the GM was currently trying to win back. Travel in and out was prohibited on account of it being a war zone.

Gabe sighed, shaking his head, “We had an in. Everything was running smoothly until the end when they pegged our ship and flagged us.”

“Leaving you with illegal cargo you can’t get rid of,” James murmured.

Dernier nodded, spitting out a quick couple of words in his gravelly language. Gabe’s lips quirked in a small smile as he translated, “Dernier says we’re fucked. Every port in the quadrant is gonna be on special alert for our class of ship, and if we dock they’ll search our ship down to the framework.”

James looked at Steve, “So, you’re looking to sell some cargo? Got a contact to go along with it?”

Gabe grinned, “The contact’s on Asgard. I can give you the details in person when we meet.”

Steve looked surprised, “Through the jumpgate. Not exactly our backyard.”

Jones shrugged his shoulders, winking, “And you wonder why we haven’t been back at base in a while.”

James was biting his lower lip, deep in thought as he calculated. “I’m assuming there’s good money in this deal, then?”

Gabe nodded, “Oh, yeah. We’ll even sell you the goods at damn near our cost,” he glanced at his partner, adding quietly, “We’d rather dump some profit on this deal than end up arrested, y’know?”

James snorted, nodded, “Yeah, I know the feeling,” he glanced at Steve, raising his eyebrows, “What do you think, Stevie? Fancy a jump over to Asgard?”

Steve was frowning, staring at Gabe, “It sounds good, but… if you can’t dock without being searched, how do we get the cargo from you?”

Gabe started chuckling, meeting eyes with James, “Oh, I, um. I’ll leave James to explain everything to you. It’s the fun part.”

James pressed his mouth into a thin line. Oh, yeah, the fun part was explaining.

Gabe, still grinning, winked again and said, “I’ll buzz you the coordinates, James! See you soon!” before the screen turned black.

Steve shifted in his seat to look at James with a grave expression. “I’m not going to like this, am I?” 

James bit his lip, laughing a little and scratching at the back of his neck, “How… do you feel about spacesuits?” he raised his eyebrows and smiled worriedly.

Steve’s expression didn’t look like he had _any_ good feelings about spacesuits.

_“Fun part” my ass, Jones_. 

***

Ever since he was a kid, Steve’s nightmares had included, but were not limited to: spiders, drowning, and getting sucked out an airlock to fall into the vast expanse of space in a spacesuit that gradually ran out of air. 

And now he was in the cargo bay, practically smothered by a spacesuit that felt too big for him and trying not to hurl. Or hyperventilate. 

Oh, stars, he just wanted to survive this stupid cargo exchange.

“Vitals check,” James said, his voice crackling over the speakers installed in the spacesuit helmet. He stood in front of Steve, his own suit donned and set. Past the glare from the overhead lights, Steve saw him smiling warily, a crease between his eyebrows as he asked, “You’re looking a little green, you ok, buddy?”

Steve forced a half-smile, “I’ll be fine.”

James’ gloved hand wrapped tightly around Steve’s arm, grounding him and making his smile at least a little more genuine. 

“Tether check,” James said, giving the heavy straps connecting them to the floor a good tug, “We’re looking good.”

“ _We don’t need to move anywhere_ ,” James had assured him earlier, “ _we just have to stand by the door controls and let Gabe do the work_.”

Right. Just. Trust the tether won’t break and send you spiraling into the dark embrace of the void.

Steve swallowed hard and gave his tether a pull, leaning his full weight back into it. James glanced over at him as he did this, but said nothing about it. 

Don’t panic. Do _not_ panic.

James cleared his throat, saying, “I’m ready when you are, Stevie.”

Steve laughed, a nervous giggle that erupted unbidden from his mouth, “ _Ooooh_ , you better just press the button before I have an asthma attack here.”

James didn’t reach for the control panel, only looked at Steve, “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to stay in the ship’s cabin.”

Steve took a couple calming breaths, trying to slow his heart rate and steady his voice. He tried for a smirk, meeting James’ eyes, “What? And leave you to have all the fun? Not on your life, Barnes.”

James returned the smile, but there was a look in his eyes that made Steve suspect he saw past the tough act. The hand on Steve’s arm squeezed reassuringly as James turned his attention to the controls, “Alright, I’m opening the airlock.”

His partner didn’t take his hand away from Steve’s arm, but it did loosen a little and move down to catch Steve’s wrist, instead. Steve shifted his hand up and grabbed onto James’ hand (maybe gripping a little tighter than he had to as he heard the pistons for the doors kick in).

Against the glare of lights, Steve couldn’t be entirely sure what James’ expression was, but he thought he saw the glint of a smile. James’ hand tightened around Steve’s, returning the pressure as the air rushed out of the room. 

The artificial gravity switched off and in a moment Steve felt himself floating upward. His stomach churned at the sensation of falling, even though the tether kept him less than a foot off the floor. 

“Check it out,” James whispered.

Steve, who had been staring down at the floor as if concentration alone could bring it back to his feet, blinked and looked up, his eyes glancing at James before following his partner’s gaze to look out the airlock’s now-open doors.

The stars, shining bright against the black, met his gaze. Coupled with the sensation of floating, the sight sent his stomach into knots.

“Ugh, shit,” he muttered, looking down again. (He promised himself he wasn’t gonna hurl.)

James’ hand squeezed his, and this time when Steve looked up, James was meeting his eyes. 

“It’s not falling,” James said, a bright smile sparking up into his eyes, “this feeling, it’s like… The closest thing to flying without a ship,” he blinked, looking back out at space, “It’s the closest I’ve ever been to them. The stars, I mean. You get a spacesuit and fly. No engines, no fuel, no artificial gravity…”

Steve smirked, “No oxygen.”

James laughed, throwing his head back in his helmet, which sent him floating backwards as much as his tether would allow. He looked at Steve, his eyes crinkling in the corners, “You just gotta suck the joy outta this?”

“I’m not a huge fan of… facing the vacuum of space,” Steve said, chuckling, “Used to have nightmares about it.”

James nodded a little, “Understandable. But…” he pulled Steve closer, putting his free hand on Steve’s other shoulder so they were floating face to face, “just try something, ok? Close your eyes.”

Steve complied, fighting a dozen snarky comments from coming up, “Alright…”

“Now just… be weightless,” James said, “Embrace the feeling. _Relax_.”

Letting out a breath, Steve rolled his shoulders back a little, trying to loosen his muscles.

James ran his thumb over Steve’s heavily-gloved knuckles and _gods_ Steve’s heart was pounding again (must be the terror of drifting into the void). He could feel heat rising to his cheeks and he blinked his eyes open.

James grinned, “Feel like you’re flying yet?”

_Every day since I met you_.

“Just barely,” Steve snarked, instead, laughing

Snorting a laugh, James let go of Steve’s shoulder. Movement caught Steve’s eye and he looked over at the cargo doors. Another spacesuit-clad figure was drifting through, using the edge of one of the doors to push himself into the bay. He carried a medium-sized crate with him, which he lifted up as if to show Steve and James.

Past the glare of his spacesuit helmet, Gabe grinned, stopping himself with one hand on the back of the door control panel, “Fancy meeting you two out here. Where do you want this?” his voice came clearly over the speakers in Steve’s helmet.

James chuckled, “Anywhere along that wall,” he said, nodding at the back wall, where the rest of their cargo had been strapped down to keep it from drifting away.

Gabe nodded, “Aye aye,” he said, before pushing off.

“So what the hell is this stuff, anyway?” Steve asked, looking at the crate with trepidation. It seemed rather small for Gabe and Dernier to have gone to such trouble.

“Ah, well,” Gabe said thoughtfully, securing a strap around the crate from top to bottom, lacing it through a couple metal rings positioned around the crate’s surface, “it’s about a sixty pounds of dried and vacuum sealed Stokesia Oblata. Rare-ish flower found in the Veludri system.”

James frowned, “What’sit do?”

Steve was frowning, too. He’d never heard of any “Stokesia Oblata” in his mom’s medical texts.

“Well, that depends,” Gabe said, finishing up securing the crate and turning to look over his shoulder, “if you’re human? It won’t do anything. Same goes for just about anyone in this galaxy, from what I’ve heard.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, “I assume the key phrase here is ‘in this galaxy’?”

Gabe grinned widely, looking at James, “He’s sharp, Barnes.”

James smiled a little, acknowledging the comment with a twitch of his eyebrows and a small squeeze on Steve’s hand. When he spoke, though, it was in a curt, business-like tone, “So, you were taking the crate to your contact on Asgard because these flowers are… what? Addicting?”

Gabe shook his head, “James, you know Dernier and I aren’t drug dealers. That’s why we joined the Commandos,” he said firmly, “Our contact is taking the goods over to Jotunheim.”

“He’s a Jotun?” James asked, “You said he’s meeting you on _Asgard_?”

Gabe shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t ask. He looks Asgardian to me. Seems to know a lot about the Jotuns, though. Says these flowers are used in a medicine to treat something called Djinge Fever. And since Hydra’s takeover of the Veludri system and the GM’s evacuation of civilians, all the usual supply trains have dried up.”

James nodded his understanding, “Alright, so this guy has a name and meeting coordinates, right?”

Gabe patted the crate with one hand, “It's all in here. I could buzz it to you, but this way it isn't traceable by computer logs, and we would much prefer it that way.”

James smiled, “So would we. Speaking of…” he paused, grabbing a thin case from where it was clipped to the door control panel. He held it up for Gabe, who was floating back over to them. “Payment. All cash. Not traceable.”

“Don't drop it,” Steve said, with a teasing smirk.

Gabe shook his head, laughing as he took the case and attached it to a small strap at his side, “Dernier would _actually_ kill me, I think. After all this trouble with the cargo, no thank you.” 

As Gabe double checked the case was secure, James asked, in a low voice, “Are you two gonna be alright trying to dock? You're sure they didn't peg your call number?”

Gabe laughed, “We're fine, Barnes. We checked the special alerts, there's nothing with our call number, just a ship description. It's as easy as swapping out our flight logs and saying we're a charter freighter.” 

James nodded, “Alright… just watch your backs, ok?” he smiled, clapping his free hand around Gabe’s shoulder, sending the other man drifting slightly, “You’re too pretty for me to be visiting you in prison.”

Rolling his eyes, Gabe grinned and answered, “Same goes for you, James,” he nodded at Steve, adding, “You both stay outta trouble, you hear?”

“Loud and clear, Jones,” James said lifting a hand to wave farewell as Gabe pushed himself off the edge of the control panel. 

Steve smiled, “So, does this mean you owe us one?”

“Ha!” Gabe stopped himself on one of the bay door, looking over his shoulder and saying quickly, “No, no, no. I can’t believe Barnes didn’t tell you about what I did for him a couple years ago. Where was it, James? One of the Trilldarian sex planets?”

A blush had risen in James’ cheeks, which Steve took careful note of even as he snorted, his eyebrows shooting upwards, “Sex planet, you say? No, he hadn’t mentioned it.”

“Oh, it’s a great story. Don’t let it rest til he tells you. I’ve even got pictures somewh-” Gabe said, before James cut him off.

“Gee, Jones, surely you’re running out of oxygen by now. Maybe you should head back to your ship?” James raised his eyebrows, staring at Gabe.

Gabe laughed, waving at them, “See you ‘round, Barnes, Stevie,” he said, before pushing himself out the airlock door and activating his rocket pack. The glowing dots of the low-powered energy rockets disappeared soon enough as he dipped down lower, to where his and Dernier’s ship was.

James used his free hand to close the cargo bay once again, and Steve became aware suddenly of how long James’ gloved hand had been gripping his. And aware of how much calmer the pressure of it made him feel. Steve even let his eyes linger on the stars as the doors closed. 

As the doors sealed, Steve felt almost regretful. Those stars had made James smile… 

“Re-oxygenating…” James muttered under his breath, pressing a few keys. 

Fans kicked on above them, the noise seeming muffled and far away from the inside of Steve’s spacesuit.

“Artificial gravity back online in three, two…”

Steve’s feet hit the ground in a sudden, jerky movement. He stumbled, but James, his hand still wrapped around Steve’s, pulled him easily to balance. 

At last, James released his hand, reaching up to remove his helmet. Steve did the same, and was hit with cool, fresh air.

As soon as he caught his breath, Steve bit his lip, his eyebrows lifting suggestively, “So, about that story Gabe mentioned…”

James groaned loudly, shaking his head and walking across the room to lift the grated floor panel where the spacesuits were stored, “I can’t believe he did that.”

“I can’t believe you went to a Trilldarian sex planet,” Steve said mildly, following after James with a smile.

“I didn’t…” James, who had hopped down to stand in the spacesuit storage space, turned around, pointing a finger at Steve defensively, “It’s _not_ what you think.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, handing his helmet down to James to put away, “Oh, of course not.”

James scoffed out a laugh, looking away, “I’m gonna kill Gabe Jones.”

“Don’t do it before he shows me those pictures, though,” Steve said, tossing down his gloves, laughing at the way James’ face reddened at the idea.

“If I can help it, you will _never_ see those picture, Steve,” James said firmly.

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who offered to nude model for me,” Steve pointed out, unstrapping the oxygen pack from his back and passing that to James as well.

James choked and had to double over for a moment, coughing and laughing, just managing to stammer out, “That… I didn’t…” he coughed a few more times before he looked up at Steve, “I was joking!”

Steve feigned a frown of concentration, sitting down on the floor to remove the spacesuit’s clunky boots, “Were you?”

James scowled, “You’re not gonna leave me alone until I tell you?”

“You got it,” Steve laughed.. 

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t… strongly motivated to figure out why James was on a sex planet in the first place. It was just… professional curiosity.

(Who was he kidding? He knew full-well why he wanted to know.)

_Shit_. He was in deep.

***

The jumpgates were a bizarre mix of science and the natural energy pathways already present. At least, that’s what James had been told once. He didn’t know how they worked and, honestly, he didn’t much care. The jumps sent ships through stable wormholes that spit them out in a different galaxy altogether. The Yggdrasil Galaxy, it was called. James had spent a short amount of time there years ago, back in his early GM days, before everything went to shit…

He just hoped he could still remember enough to navigate there.

As he pulled up to a small space station, where the jumpgate’s waiting queue formed (there were three ships ahead of them), a light flashed on the side of the station nearest to the front of the queue, and the first ship blasted forward at full speed. What had looked like empty space a moment before turned suddenly into a burst of shimmering, technicolor light.

James looked over and caught Steve grinning, staring at the jumpgate with wide eyes.

“I’ve never seen anything like it…” Steve said, even as the lights disappeared and the space looked the same as it had before.

“Well,” James said, smiling widely, “they don’t call it the Rainbow Bridge for nothing.”

“Yeah, you got that right,” Steve said, his eyes still transfixed on the area the jumpgate had disappeared. 

The next ship in line got the signal light and blasted away from the queue, and a moment later the jumpgate appeared again, the ship disappearing into the brightness just as the last one had.

While James guided _Winter_ forward in line, Steve cleared his throat.

James looked over and saw a familiar paleness to Steve’s cheeks, his hands fiddling with the edge of the safety harness as if he wanted to put it on but wasn’t sure if he should.

“So, it’s totally necessary to… run into it full speed like that?” Steve asked, a telling quaver to his voice.

_Shit_ , James hadn’t even thought of that. He was a terrible friend, what was he- 

“I’ll take that silence and guilty look as a yes,” Steve muttered, strapping himself into his seat.

James sighed, his brows furrowed with apology, “I didn’t even think about it, Steve, that was my fault, I-”

“Shh,” Steve said, his hands taking a tight grip on his seat as he leaned back, bracing himself against the back of his chair, “don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry,” James said.

Steve smiled a little, even though James could tell he was being very deliberate about keeping his breathing even, and let out a strained laugh, “Don’t beat yourself up. I’ll get payback for this one day.” He swallowed, watching the ship in front of them blast forward to get through the jumpgate.

James brought the ship forward, his stomach in knots as he watched the signal light. He glanced at Steve one last time before the light flared. The ignition punched forward with a howl that could be faintly heard throughout the ship; the force of it felt a bit like a kick in the guts, even with all of _Winter_ ’s dampeners and gravity modifiers. 

It felt like only a second, maybe two, and then they were in the jumpgate and the force seemed to alleviate. Less like a punch in the guts and more like your lungs were being a little bit stretched. Enough to be uncomfortable, to say the least. The rainbow colors of the jumpgate swirled and changed around them, the front viewscreen was almost too bright to look directly at. 

What felt like seconds (or minutes or who the hell really knew at this point), they emerged on the other side of the jump, faced with a large, very imposing blockade of what looked to be military vessels.

Steve, still catching his breath from the stress of the jump, murmured a low, “ _Jaaaames._ ”

Before James could respond, a transmission cut through on every channel, playing automatically over _Winter_ ’s comm system in a steady, pre-recorded message.

“ **All incoming vessels will submit themselves to be searched by Asgardian Solar Guard. Please guide your vessel to the nearest open station, as designated by a green or yellow light on the docking pad. If all pads display a red light, wait for one to become available.** ”

James gritted his teeth, but moved the ship toward the nearest docking pad with a yellow light over it, saying quietly, “Looks like a routine check, don’t worry about it.”

They had dealt with the Galactic Military in their own galaxy, he was sure they could handle a few questions from an Asgardian military. If Jones and Dernier could handle it, him and Steve could, too.

Steve raised his eyebrows at James, “And if it’s _not_ a routine check?”

James scoffed, “How would they know anything? Gabe and Dernier’s exchange with us is tight, there’s no way they can trace it.”

***

“And why did you open your airlock in the middle of your trip?”

James made a “Hmm?” noise, raising his eyebrows slightly, “I’m sorry?”

The solar guard captain (the identifying patch on his uniform read “Heimdall”) raised his eyebrows, his bright gold eyes looking James over critically, “Your ship logs show,” he tapped a few keys into his datapad and flipped it around for James and Steve to look at, “that the main cargo airlock was disengaged mid-flight, and it stayed open for nine and a half minutes.”

The datapad’s screen showed a readout of most of the ship’s daily functions and, among them, the disengaging of the airlock in question.

James cleared his throat, “I didn’t realize the Asgardian military was so… suspicious. You go through everybody’s passive ship logs?”

Heimdall didn’t look amused, (honestly, the guy hadn’t looked anything but “intimidating” since they had docked) “We have a program that runs through and picks out any suspicious activity. Now answer the question, please.”

James let out a breath. “Look, the truth is kinda embarrassing…” he said slowly.

Heimdall’s expression didn’t change.

Steve chimed in, with an exasperated sigh, “James, just tell him.”

James turned to look at Steve, shaking his head, (tell him what?) “Well, how am I supposed to explain it?”

Steve rolled his eyes, looking at Heimdall with stern sincerity, “It was a bee.”

Heimdall’s face finally showed some intrigue, his eyebrows darting up quickly as he repeated back, “A _bee_?”

James tried not to look as surprised as Heimdall, saying quickly, “Look, I know it sounds ridiculous but…” he looked to Steve and hoped his partner could carry the rest of the lie.

Steve sighed again, “I’m allergic. Deathly. You can check my medical history if you don't trust me. But there was a bee on the ship and if it had stung me I would die, so… we did what we had to.”

There was a weighted pause. James didn’t hold his breath, even though he desperately wanted to.

“So, instead of squishing it,” Heimdall said slowly, his voice level (and was it just James or did he detect a hint of exhaustion to his tone?), “you chased it into your cargo bay and sucked it out into deep space?”

When Heimdall looked at James for confirmation, he shrugged, “It was a fast bee, we couldn’t get it.”

“And you left the cargo bay open for over nine minutes?” Heimdall asked flatly.

James furrowed his brows, shrugging again, “I wanted to make sure it left.”

“We did _try_ squishing it, obviously,” offered Steve, “Well…” he looked at James sheepishly, “I mean, _he_ was trying, I was… hiding in the bathroom.”

Heimdall blinked, looking down at the datapad and tapping his fingers a couple of times on the side of it. “Thank you for answering my questions, I will… be back. Stay here,” he said, turning away and walking back to the small booth off to one side of the docking pad, where a few other solar guard officers were waiting. 

James let out a breath and forced himself not to break character as he looked at Steve with wide eyes.

The only hint that Steve was aware of his own genius was a tiny, _tiny_ smirk that tugged at one corner of his mouth as James met his eyes, but it was gone in a moment as he looked away, his eyes gazing nonchalantly over _Winter_ and the docking pad around them. 

Was it possible to subtly declare his undying love for his partner and then dip-kiss him in a way that wouldn’t draw attention? Because right now he was more or less certain that if Steve was gonna keep saving their necks like this, he better make it some kind of legally binding partnership, or he’d be fucked if the skinny alien ever left… 

Hell, even if Steve never saved his neck again, he would keep him around.

A few minutes later (after, presumably, checking up on Steve’s bee sting allergy), Heimdall returned, giving James and Steve a half-frustrated look. 

“You gentlemen are free to go, it seems,” the captain said, handing James a slip of paper that verified their having gone through security checks. The man looked at Steve, vaguely annoyed, “Try not to catch any more bees.”

James laughed, nodding, “We’ll try not to.”

Heimdall didn’t crack a smile, only turned away and marched back to the booth with the other officers.

While he and Steve walked into the cargo bay, James fought laughter and only just managed to keep it contained in a low chuckle. Steve looked over at him, a grin on his face.

“‘Untraceable’, you said. Untraceable my ass,” Steve whispered.

James snorted and put an arm around Steve’s shoulders, “Can it, Rogers. I’m enjoying myself.”

“You enjoy yourself when I save your ass?” Steve teased.

“Every time, Stevie,” James chuckled, changing to a murmur as he repeated, “Every time.”

***

Steve didn't know Gabe Jones very well, but next time the two met, Steve had some serious questions for him about his taste in meeting locations.

The place basically _exuded_ “two seconds from a bar fight” from the very floorboards. And, as if that weren't enough, most of the people in here looked like the type that always seemed to punch Steve.

_You promised your mom. No more fights._

Did it count if they hit him first, though?

“Come on, over here,” James murmured, nudging Steve’s shoulder and guiding them toward an empty table.

Steve sighed, his eyes traveling the room as they walked, “Hell of a place,” he whispered, mostly to himself.

James snorted, sitting down in the chair that faced the door. “Yeah, well,” he glanced around and leaned closer to Steve, “at least it’s discreet, right?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Only because there’s so many _other_ criminals in here.”

“I thought that’s what I just said?” James said, tossing Steve an amused grin.

Steve returned the smile, but still felt on-edge. This place didn’t _feel_ right. And it didn’t help that they didn’t know what their contact looked like.

“Hey,” James said, his voice cutting softly through Steve’s thoughts. When Steve blinked and turned to look, James only smiled a little and shrugged, “Relax. You look like you forgot to get your mom’s permission to be here.”

“I _did_ ,” Steve scoffed, though he relaxed his shoulders and tried to look nonchalant. 

James chuckled, tapping a hand on the table a little as he stood up again, “I’ll get us some drinks,” he said, then added, “I’ll look for our friend.”

Steve nodded, “I’ll watch for anything weird.”

While James wandered up to the bar, Steve couldn’t shake the uneasy feelings in his gut. He kept his eyes moving, watching the crowd, scanning the corners of the room. If their contact was here, he hadn’t done anything to let them know.

***

James picked his way carefully to the counter and waited to catch the bartender’s eye.

“Nice jacket,” a voice said.

James looked at the guy next to him in surprise. It was a positively _giant_ bearded man in a cape, two large horns curling back from the top of his head, with scars crossing and re-crossing his arms, face, hell… any visible skin was scarred.

“Thanks,” James said, tossing the man (thing? Whatever it was, it wasn’t human or Asgardian) a half smile as he returned his attention to the bartender, who noticed him this time. He nodded, “Two beers,” he requested, tossing some money down on the countertop.

“That jacket come in grown up sizes?” the horned man-thing asked sarcastically.

James turned and actually looked at the guy this time, “What does that mean?”

The guy raised his eyebrows, “I’m saying you’re a puny excuse for a man.” He took a large swig of his drink, the froth sticking in his moustache as he continued to stare at James in challenge.

James snorted, “Right, buddy. Sure thing,” he looked away, rolling his eyes. The sad, angry drunks would do anything to get a rise outta someone.

The bartender passed him his beers and James nodded his thanks, taking the glasses and turning away from the counter.

Before he could make it three steps, though, the drunk guy turned and said after him, “What? You think you can’t take me?”

James laughed, but managed to keep it to a undertoned chuckle, fully intending to ignore the guy.

“Yeah, head on back to your little _shur-teff_ ,” the guy spat, “He’s even less of a man than you!”

James paused, stopping his retreat back to his and Steve’s table. He turned around, facing the guy, “Do I wanna know,” he said slowly, deliberately walking back to the drunk, “what ‘shortuff’ means?”

The drunk guy laughed, “That’s what we call the weaker ones we keep around,” he raised his eyebrows, “not strong enough to be warriors, but get them in your bed and fu-”

James didn’t have to think, he just dropped the beers and jumped the guy, pulling him off his barstool and punching him. (There was something _very_ satisfying in a fist connecting with some asshole’s face. It was therapeutic, really.)

Of course… a moment later, when the guy realized that he was _actually_ in a fight, he twisted away from James and threw a punch that made James’ vision come unfocused for a second and sent him tripping back against the bar countertop. 

James blinked, but pushed himself forward to keep from becoming anything less than a moving target. He could hear the drunk guy laughing, and as his vision steadied itself he saw Steve squaring up to the guy.

_Nope_ , no, no, this was where James drew the line. Before the drunk (or Steve, for that matter) could get a punch in, James rushed forward and threw his whole body weight into the guy, landing them both scuffling on the dirty floor of the bar. The guy quickly recovered, though, and rolled over. 

A fist connected with James’ cheek, and his head was ringing, his vision unfocused once again. His head smacked against the wooden boards of the floor, the impact vibrating through his skull (not a fun feeling), and he could taste blood from where he’d bitten his tongue.

The next hit was an elbow into his stomach, and the guy (ok, maybe at this point it was fair to say that he wasn’t drunk? James had never met a drunk this good at fighting) laughed at the pained sound that escaped from James. Oh, and another punch to the face, connecting with James’ jaw this time. The coppery taste of his own blood was stronger, now. James tried to push himself away from the guy when another hit to his stomach made the breath rush from his lungs in one quick gasp.

But then Steve was yelling something (was it “get off” or “fuck off”?) and James looked up to see Steve clinging to the drunk’s back, one arm wrapped around his neck and the other punching at anything it could reach (mostly the guy’s face). 

James forced himself to heave in a couple big breaths as he rolled over and pushed himself to his knees, having every intention of getting up and grabbing a barstool to hit the guy with.

“ _All of you, break it up!_ ” the booming voice ordered loudly.

Someone grabbed James’ shoulder and helped him to his feet. When he tried to struggle free, a voice whispered, “Don’t even try it.”

James’ gaze snapped over to look at the dark-haired man now holding him. The man held up what looked like a badge, a crest with two ravens facing outwards, and said, in quiet explanation, “Asgardian Protection Agency.”

“You’re a cop?” James asked, bringing a hand up to see if his nose was bleeding (it was).

The dark-haired man gave a sort of sarcastic smile, “Unfortunate, I know.”

Another man, this one blond with broad, muscular shoulders, was hauling the drunk to his feet one-handed, while the other hand held tightly to Steve’s arm to keep him from leaving.

“Don’t worry, folks, we’re APA,” the blond was announcing loudly as the drunk struggled lamely against his grip, “please return to your drinks, we’ll escort these gentlemen downtown.”

Steve turned around to give James a look, his eyebrows arching upwards.

James blinked and looked down. _Shit_. 

He’d stepped in it this time.

The cop holding onto his shoulder patted him condescendingly on the shoulder, “You heard him. Let’s go.”

James could hear the proverbial toilet flushing, sending his and Steve’s whole plan down the drain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shouts* ARE THOSE SOME GOOD GOOD COP BOYS I SEE?? WHO DO WE KNOW ON ASGARD WHO'S TALL/BROAD/BLOND AND WHO GETS FOLLOWED AROUND BY A SNARKY/THIN/BLACK-HAIRED BOY?? (ok, I GOTTA simmer down, I think we all know who they are...)  
> But before I go... some info for you all:  
> -My class goes through the end of July (right in time for me to enter PRIME con season and have all my time taken up with sewing, *convenient*) so?? I don't know when the next update will beeee??? >_>   
> -I have the next chapter (pretty much) mapped out, all I have to do is ~~write it..   
> -AS A BONUS, I'm getting really stoked for *things* to start happening in the next couple chapters... :3 So that usually?? Corresponds to somewhat faster writing?? (Time permitting, of course, because if I don't have tiiiime to write, writing is impossible >_< why does real life exist?? Responsibilities who? miss me with that shit.)  
> -Again, thank you all so so much for reading!! This fic is really so much fun to write for and I'm just so glad to get back such positive, wonderful feedback so??? I'm love you. All of you. <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes are... in jail. In a galaxy that's not theirs. And worse than that, James is pretty sure one of these cops is a goth.
> 
> But, you know, they were always gonna find a way out, right? And once they get back to the *job* that they were originally sent here to do, well... there's some dancing to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *busts down the door to 2018 with a Shirley Temple, wearing a bathrobe and dark sunglasses* sup, ya'll. bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.
> 
> ((no no, but forreal I'm so so SO sorry that this update took fuckin' forever and I apologize profusely and beg your forgiveness, I hope you enjoy this trifling chapter as penance))

James, Steve, and the horned man-thing were cuffed when they got outside (not _real_ cuffs, but some quick and dirty energy bands that the blond agent had on him) and, of all things, were _walked_ to the station. Didn’t these cops have ships? Trucks? Speeders? Like, damn, James would settle for a horse at this point.

“Thor?” the woman sitting at one of the desks asked, addressing the tall blond man as the group wandered into the APA office, “I thought you were off-duty tonight?”

The dark haired officer guiding James snorted, “We _are_.”

Thor turned around, giving the dark haired man an exasperated look before turning back to answer the woman, “Loki and I were out having drinks and there was a fight.”

“I wanted to stay out of it,” grumbled Loki, pulling James along as he followed Thor to the back of the room, where a few small holding cells sat inset into the wall.

Thor snorted, “Of course you did,” he said, pushing Steve into one cell and the drunk into another. The energy fields in front of the doors activated immediately, locking them in.

Loki removed the energy bands from James’ wrists and then shoved him unceremoniously into the cell beside Steve’s. The energy field activating made the hairs on James’ arms stand up, but besides that the cell was dry and well-lit, the matrix of force fields surrounding him allowed for a (slightly distorted) view of where Steve was sitting in the corner of his own cell. So, seeing no other option, James wandered to the back of his cell, where a low, uncomfortable cot was bolted to the floor and wall. As he sat down in the corner closest to Steve, the shorter man glanced through the forcefield and James could summarize his expression in two words.

_Well, shit._

James nodded once, acknowledging Steve’s unspoken disappointment, and leaned back so sharply he hit his head on the wall behind him. Which was an incredibly stupid choice for a guy who had just been in a bar fight. Wincing, he turned to look at his partner through the hazy force field. They couldn’t risk talking right now but… 

Stars, he was just sorry. This was his fault, all of it. If he had just kept walking and ignored that asshole all of this could have been avoided.

Steve shrugged one shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching into a strained smile that was trying to be encouraging.

James shook his head and looked away, turning his attention to what was happening in the office space beyond the cell. 

The woman who had greeted Thor and Loki on their way in was now standing and leaning against her desk. She was in the middle of a conversation with Thor, “...he hears that you two are wasting resources breaking up bar fights…”

“What resources?” Thor scoffed. James could only see his back as he sat at his desk, but he looked tense as he continued, “It’s an important peacekeeping pursuit!” 

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a door opening. A moment later, there were new voices in the room, though James couldn’t see the sources.

“I thought you were-” 

“Yes, they were off-duty tonight,” the woman answered, before the new voice could finish. She smirked, leaning back and giving Thor a pointed look, “Someone decided to stop a bar fight.”

Another officer, this one also blond as Thor but more leanly muscled, emerged into view, laughing as he walked over to the woman’s desk. He stopped beside her and leaned as well, crossing his arms over his chest. “The chief's not going to like that,” he said, addressing this statement to the woman, but speaking loudly enough that it was clear he meant to make the point to Thor.

“Oh, come on,” a new voice said, as two more officers, one with his black hair pulled back into a bun and the other with a large red beard, walked to stand around Thor’s desk. The same voice spoke again, and this time James could see it was the man with the dark hair who spoke, giving the thin blond an annoyed look, “peacekeeping is part of the job.”

Thor looked at the man, “Thank you, Hogun.”

“Granted, you weren’t _on_ the job at the time, so…” the dark-haired Hogun continued, raising his eyebrows pointedly as the other officers chuckled.

The red-bearded man leaned conspiratorially on Thor’s desk, saying, “I just hope you get through processing them before Odin finds out. Otherwise _we’ll_ have to do it.”

Thor rolled his eyes, turning his attention to the holoscreen in front of him, “How would he? He’s gone for the night.”

The telling silence among the officers was enough. Thor looked up sharply to where the three officers had now gathered to watch him.

He looked… _concerned_. Now that he was turned enough for James to see his expression he actually looked a little bit scared. And James would have assumed the guy could withstand a fucking starship crash without sweating. 

“My father’s here?” Thor asked.

“Yes, _your father_ is here,” a heavy, severe voice cut through the air. 

Everyone snapped their attention to a part of the room James couldn’t see, but the immediate tension in the air was palpable.

Thor jumped to his feet, turning around to face the source of the new voice, “Father, I thought you were-”

“Paperwork,” the man growled, walking forward. 

He was older, but carried himself like he could take down anybody as soon as look at them. One of his eyes was covered by an eyepatch, but James could still see scars running out beyond the edge of it. His dark uniform’s top pocket was embroidered with the same crest with the two ravens that James had seen on Loki’s badge.

“I can explain, there was a bar fight, we just-” Thor started to say, but his father cut him off.

“I don’t need an ‘explanation’ to know that my best officer is wasting his time and this department’s resources,” the man said, then added, with a glance around, “or to know that my sons are spending time in places they would be better off far away from. _Where_ is Loki?”

“Here, father,” Loki said, appearing suddenly through a doorway off to the right of the holding cells, as if he had sensed the trouble and arrived just in time to witness it. He crossed the room, but didn’t venture as close to Thor’s desk as the others, instead hanging back at a desk closer to the holding cells.

“Chief,” the woman said, standing up, “I’ll finish processing these-”

“Don’t bother, Sif,” Odin interrupted (James was starting to wonder if this guy let _anyone_ finish speaking). He looked at Loki pointedly, “ _You_ will process the drunks.”

Loki didn’t respond, only sat down complacently at the desk he stood beside, averting his gaze away from his father’s.

Thor stepped forward, “Father, he didn’t want to get involved, I should be the one to do the work.”

“I want to speak to you in my office,” Odin said, turning on Thor and acting as if his son hadn’t even spoken.

Oh, how charming to know that this guy either interrupted everyone or ignored what they said. James wondered whether vaguely whether this was normal or if Odin was just that pissed.

As Thor followed his father out of the room, he cast a quick, apologetic glance at Loki before he looked at the other officers and tossed them a quick nod. 

Just as the door closed loudly behind Thor and Odin, Sif jumped to her feet and walked around her desk (shoving the blond man lightly to follow her as she did). “Come on, Fandral, we’re supposed to be patrolling soon, we should get ready.”

The thin blond rolled his eyes and turned to follow her, saying, “You mean you want to be out of here before Odin gets out here and kicks Loki’s ass?”

Sif turned to give Fandral an annoyed glance, but said nothing. They disappeared out of view as the other two agents leaned against desks, still talking in low voices, too quietly for James to catch.

Loki was staring at his holoscreen resolutely, his face not showing any traces of annoyance or _anything_ for that matter. He seemed very cool-headed for a man just forced to work on his night off.

James glanced at Steve again, hoping to catch his attention. The shorter man was sullen, staring down at his shoes, chin resting on one hand as the other fidgeted quietly in his lap. 

With a cautious glance at the APA agents in the room, James leaned as close to the energy field as he could.

“Psst,” he hissed.

Steve jolted a little and looked over, eyebrows raised.

James gave a sad half-smile, “I’m sorry this happened,” he whispered. He exhaled a quick breath, adding, “Guess we came all this way for nothing, eh?”

Steve looked around carefully, then scooted closer and whispered back, “There may be a way. If we call Gabe and Dernier maybe they can get us in contact with the… the guy.”

James almost chuckled at how unsubtly Steve had avoided using the term “buyer”. Instead, though, he nodded a little and tilted his head.

“You ever been to jail before, punk?” he asked, his tone teasing.

Steve laughed a little under his breath and looked around, “No… my mother is going to _kill_ me.”

James threw his head back, laughing louder than he should have. 

“Not before she kills _me_ ,” he said.

“Would you quiet down!” Loki snapped, turning his head to give them both a look that made James realize suddenly that the officer blamed them for getting him into this situation.

Which, well… he wasn’t entirely wrong, James supposed.

After a while, the other two agents disappeared, presumably heading back to where they had been before, leaving only Loki left in the office. 

James didn’t dare speak any more. In the cell beside him, Steve was starting to nod off, his legs curled up against his chest as he sat on the narrow cot. 

The slim, dark-haired Asgardian worked silently for a time, then turned around. He slid out of his seat to walk up to the cell holding the drunk man they’d gotten into the fight with. 

“I have some questions for you, sir,” Loki said, his voice apathetic and flat.

The horned man growled low in his throat, “Let me the hell out of here or I’ll beat your ass into the pavement.”

Loki smiled tiredly and ignored the man, “Sir, what exactly happened to cause your altercation with these two men?”

“Some guy paid me. Told me to start a fight with the bigger guy,” the man said.

James frowned, leaning forward to look over at the cell. If that was true… maybe this had been a set up.

“That so?” Loki asked, raising his eyebrows, “What did this ‘guy’ look like?”

“Scrawny. Had a tail and these… fins behind his ears.”

Loki tossed the man a look from beneath furrowed brows, clearly unconvinced, “What? Like a lizard?”

The horned man stalked over to the door of his cell and leaned close, “You don’t believe me?”

Loki scoffed, shrugging a little, “I hear all kinds of stories every day from liars who will say anything to get out. It’s my job not to believe them until they’re proven.”

The man grimaced, “Check with the things you _took_ from me.”

“Your belongings?” Loki clarified.

“The guy paid me with a few weird gold coins. It should be there,” the man growled.

Loki raised his eyebrows, but all the same walked over to Thor’s desk, where his brother had earlier deposited three bins of James, Steve’s, and the horned man’s seized possessions.

The dark-haired APA agent rifled through one of the bins, every now and then picking something up to search it more thoroughly. Finally, he looked over at the holding cells.

“There’s no gold coins here,” he said, walking back over and crossing his arms, “where’d they go?”

The man grew angrier, “I don’t know. Maybe your brother stole them.”

“You don’t know my brother,” Loki muttered, turning back to his desk with a snort.

The horned man stomped to the edge of his cell, shouting, “You should be looking for the other guy! The one who paid me! He said he needed a distraction, so he was probably ripping the place off while you were distracted!” 

Steve jerked awake at the man’s sudden shouting. He looked at James, who only shrugged. He kept his focus on the conversation going on between Loki and the man.

Loki didn’t even look over his shoulder. “A compelling story, sir. Please calm down or I’ll be forced to have you escorted to a jail cell and you’ll spend the rest of the night with the other drunks downstairs.”

The man slammed a hand against the energy field, causing a sudden burst of white light (Steve flinched and looked away, unfolding his legs to plant his feet firmly on the ground), “I answered your question!”

Loki cleared his throat a little and grabbed what looked like a comm handset from a stand on his desk. He held down the button and spoke calmly and clearly.

“Yes, I’m going to need some assistance with the drunk in holding cell one. He’s getting agitated and belligerent.”

“I’m _not_!” the man yelled (in what was, admittedly, an extremely belligerent tone).

A few minutes later, a few more agents arrived and half-dragged the shouting man out of his cell. James watched in silence until they were alone again, then looked at Loki with raised eyebrows.

“So you’re not gonna check out what he said?” he asked, “About the guy paying him?”

Loki paused for a moment, seeming to consider his response. Then, he tapped out a few commands on his holoscreen and turned his chair around.

“Stay in exactly the same positions you’re in right now,” Loki said, leaning back in his chair.

James frowned, “Why?”

“Because I’ve just put the cameras on a loop so it looks as if we’re all sitting just as we were. No one needs to know that this conversation happened.”

Steve glared at the Asgardian, “So what now? You threaten us?”

Loki rolled his eyes and sighed longsufferingly, “I was _going_ to apologize for the circumstances of your arrest, but since you’re going to be rude about it, nevermind.”

James glanced at Steve, then back at Loki, “What do you mean?”

Loki’s eyebrows went up, “Well, obviously I planned it,” he pulled a face, “It was a bit of a rush job, but it worked. You’re _here_ now.”

Steve’s brows furrowed low over his eyes, “ _You_ paid that drunk to start a fight?”

“Now you’ve got it,” Loki said, sighing.

“He said it was a lizard, though,” Steve pointed out flatly.

Loki pressed his lips together in a thin line, “Disguises are a specialty of mine,” he raised an eyebrow, “Anything else?”

James looked the man up and down. The energy field warped the image slightly, but he could swear that Loki looked _amused_ by all this.

“So you wanted us arrested. Why?” he asked.

Loki lifted his hands, gesturing vaguely, “Well, you see, I meant to show up alone, but my brother decided at the last minute to try to make up for years of rivalry by going out for drinks with me.” He shrugged, “I couldn’t meet with you with my brother there. Couldn’t let you leave without getting in contact. I made a necessary decision.”

James sat up straight, “You’re our contact?” he asked. When Loki only nodded, he scoffed, “But you’re a _cop_.”

Loki smirked, repeating what he’d said to James earlier, “Unfortunate, I know.”

James looked over, meeting Steve’s bright eyes. He saw a heavy suspicion that was mirrored in his own mind…

He looked back at Loki, “Why would an Asgardian cop hire smugglers to help the Jotuns? Aren’t they Asgard’s enemies right now?”

Loki raised an eyebrow, “Would you believe me if I said it was a personal mission of compassion?”

“I wouldn’t believe you to tell me the weather,” Steve muttered tersely, giving James dark look. He didn't trust Loki.

James couldn’t help but agree somewhat.

“You’re apparently willing to lie to your family and friends,” James pointed out, “Why should we trust you?”

Loki’s face hardened, “I have no _friends_ in Asgard,” he said coldly, “and in case you didn’t notice, my brother is rather the favorite. My father hardly notices my absences,” he took a breath, saying, with less ice in his tone, “But that’s beside the point. Why shouldn’t I try to help those in need? People on Jotunheim are dying without medicine.”

“And what do you stand to gain from helping?” Steve asked sharply, jutting his chin defiantly, “I know your type. You don’t do anything if there’s nothing in it for you.”

Loki chuckled, looking at Steve levelly, “And what is it that you do, again, smuggler?”

Steve looked away, saying nothing.

James clenched his jaw, “So you are getting something out of this, aren’t you?”

“A sense of accomplishment,” Loki said. He put his hands up, shrugging, “Watch me like a hawk, if you must. But I will not be taking money or anything else from the Jotuns.”

James still didn’t believe Loki. He could tell that the man had other ideas, other motivations.

But it wasn’t his job to figure out what those were, was it?

James glanced at Steve, meeting the shorter man’s eyes for a moment.

Steve’s jaw was tight and James could practically see the conflict going on in his head. This wasn’t the sort of person they had ever wanted to work for.

James looked back at Loki, “So what happens now?”

“Well,” Loki drawled, smirking, “therein comes the tricky part. I’m going to be giving you a data chip with a very specific flight path. It will guide you to the coordinates on Jotunheim where I’ll be waiting to meet you, but you will need to follow the instructions _exactly_.”

“Why?” James asked.

“Because if you mess up, the Jotun sentinels will detect you and blast your ship into lots of tiny bits.”

Steve stiffened in his seat, “We weren’t told that before.”

“What, you think for the price you’re being paid you weren’t going to undergo a little discomfort?” Loki asked, laughing as if he hadn’t just told them they might die.

James frowned, “How exactly are _you_ getting to Jotunheim?”

Loki shrugged a little, “I have my ways. Unfortunately, they don’t accommodate cargo or I would take the shipment myself,” he pursed his lips, looking at them distastefully, “It would certainly be cheaper.”

“Right, yeah, of course,” Steve droned, rolling his eyes, “And you just expect us to trust that this isn’t a setup.”

“A setup?” Loki raised his eyebrows, “To, what? Get you arrested?” he laughed, “I already have you in custody. If I wanted to bust you for smuggling, I would have kept the cameras running, lied to you about it, and then this whole conversation would be a big heap of evidence.”

James stared at Loki with trepidation.

The Asgardian rolled his eyes, scoffing, “I _didn’t_ bring you here to be arrested. You’re here to help me.” 

When Steve and James stayed quiet, Loki sighed again.

“I understand this isn’t the job you thought it was nor the employer you expected, but your other friends had no problem with me. They took this job and I would have preferred that they be here not you,” he said quickly, with an indifferent wave of his hand, “but this is the way that things are,” he looked from James, to Steve, and back again, “All I need to know is whether you’re willing to do the job or not.”

Steve exhaled a low breath and James could feel the shorter man watching him. He had his eyes on Loki, though.

The dark-haired Asgardian was hard to pin down. Were his intentions good? Did he have other motivations? James had no idea…

He looked over at Steve and nodded once, firmly, “I’m in if my partner is.”

Steve didn’t hesitate, saying quickly, “Then I’m in.”

Loki smiled, “Now that we’re settled, I’ll be turning the cameras back on. Pretend like this never happened,” he spun his chair around to face his desk again, saying over his shoulder, “After that, give me an hour at most and I’ll release you. The data chip will be with your seized possessions. Head back to your ship for the night and I’ll see you both tomorrow assuming you don’t fuck anything up.”

“Comforting,” Steve muttered, relaxing into his seat to try to match his posture from before.

James watched Loki carefully as he tapped out something on his holoscreen’s keyboard.

This was certainly an unexpected turn of events.

After about a half an hour (more or less), James was starting to feel sleepy, the boredom of being stuck in a cell adding to the lethargy. He was startled suddenly by a door slamming, though, and jumped in his seat, sitting up straight as Thor came stomping into the room.

“He’s being unreasonable!” the blond APA agent said, and James wasn’t sure if he was addressing this to Loki or just saying it in a general way.

Loki looked up from his desk calmly, “What’s the punishment this time?”

“I’m supposed to go and do the routine check in with the Solar Guard tomorrow!” Thor said, curling his lip as if this was the worst possible news.

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Loki said.

“Not to you, maybe. Father _knows_ how I despise bureaucracy and that’s all this is,” Thor muttered.

Loki chuckled and turned back to his work, saying quietly, “He’s trying to make an APA chief out of you.”

Thor rolled his eyes, grumbling something too quietly for James to catch.

Loki stood up, grabbing a stack of papers and turning back to look at Steve and James.

“Alright, you two are free to go,” he said, without enthusiasm.

As Loki released them from the holding cells, Thor looked up curiously, frowning.

“Already?” the blond asked.

“Well, there’s nothing on them, is there?” Loki said tiredly, “They weren’t drunk, they cooperated, and the other guy admitted to being the one trying to start things. They’re not even from around here.”

Thor nodded a little as James and Steve started grabbing their stuff. James slipped the small data card that was sitting next to his wallet into his pocket without stopping to look at it. He was sure that if he hesitated for any amount of time, Thor would become suspicious. Even with his caution, his ears strained to listen to Thor and Loki’s conversation going on behind him.

“I’m sorry I got you involved,” Thor said, in what James thought was the gentlest tone he’d heard the tall Asgardian use all night.

“Oh, think nothing of it,” Loki drawled, “you know I love nothing more than coming into work unexpectedly.”

“I’m serious, Loki,” Thor sighed, “It was my fault.”

“Just don’t do it again, alright?” Loki muttered, walking over to shove papers at Steve and James.

“Sign these and go,” he said, his tone curt.

James took the paper and glanced over it quickly before signing along the bottom. He’d hardly lifted the pen from the page when Loki snatched the document back, then turned and grabbed Steve’s.

“Great, thanks, have a good rest of your night,” he said quickly, turning and walking back to his desk.

James thought he saw disappointment in Thor’s face as the blond watched his brother walk away, but he couldn’t be sure.

Steve nudged James lightly, murmuring, “C’mon, let’s go.”

James nodded, trailing behind Steve just a little bit. 

The sky was dark as they exited the APA headquarters, but glowing street lights provided a sort of soft white illumination to the cobbled paths. James had to admit that Asgard was picturesque. 

As they started walking down the street, Steve slowed a moment until James was beside him, then fell into step with him.

“What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?” the short alien muttered.

James scoffed a little, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly, “I don’t know, buddy…” he reached over to put an arm over Steve’s shoulders.

Steve smirked a little, letting out a quick puff of breath into the silence. Then, he raised an eyebrow, asking quietly, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” James laughed, “I could use some cheap diner food.”

“Good, cause that’s all we can afford,” Steve snorted.

James rolled his eyes and used his free hand to give Steve’s shoulder a light punch, “Not after this job.”

“Assuming we survive it, you mean?” Steve chuckled.

“We’ll survive it,” James said boldly, snickering, “we always do.”

***

After an hour or so of space travel, Steve could almost forget the danger.

Almost.

As _Winter_ cruised smoothly along, James watching the monitors carefully to make sure they were on the correct flight path, Steve felt the distinct nausea of anxiety clawing up his throat.

James glanced over with a small, comforting smile, “Holding up ok, Stevie?”

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes a little, managing to return the smallest smile.

“Not great,” he admitted.

James reached up to flip a few switches, “Another few minutes and I’ll be able to put her on autopilot for a while. The course runs straight through this next region.”

Steve nodded, chewing on his lip thoughtfully as he tried to decide how to phrase his next question.

James looked at him suddenly, as if sensing his hesitation. He sighed out a breath and murmured, “I know it’s not ideal.”

“I don’t trust him,” Steve said quickly.

James snorted, “Yeah, neither do I.”

Steve exhaled heavily, “Then why are we doing this?”

“We’ve come this far already,” James pointed out, “and the payout is good.”

“This isn’t about _money_!” Steve spoke sharply and almost immediately regretted it.

James stopped, looking at Steve with surprise.

Steve swallowed, gentling his tone, “I… Sorry, I just meant,” he stammered, “I-I meant that this partnership… you promised me that we would do things for the good of others. That this was our way to help.”

“We are helping,” James said, “there are people who need this cargo.” 

“And what about Loki? He’s _not_ doing this for anyone but himself,” Steve said.

“We don’t know that.”

“Don’t we?” Steve asked, crossing his arms.

James tilted his head, “Yeah,” he murmured, “but the fact is… we’re here to help. If Loki is somehow gaining something, too, well, that’s his prerogative.” 

Steve couldn’t help but shake his head softly, “I still don’t like it. Look I…” he sighed and looked at James, “I know we have to go through with this job. Like you said, we’ve come this far. Just promise me we won’t do anything like this again? I don’t want to work for people who are using us for their own gain.”

James smiled a little, “I promise.”

Steve returned the smile weakly then turned away to look out the front view screen, watching the stars warp past. 

He heard the sound of switches off to his left and James muttered with satisfaction.

“Well, here we are. Got some time on autopilot, now…” he shifted in his seat and Steve looked over to see him clambering out of the pilot’s chair. 

Steve frowned, “Where you going?”

James shrugged, hopping down to the main cabin, “Gonna stretch my legs. The computer will warn me well before a course change.”

Steve rose from his seat hesitantly, walking down to follow James as the taller man shuffled around with a computer pad.

A moment later, music started playing from the shipboard comms and James turned to look at Steve with a grin.

“That’s more like it,” he said.

Steve chuckled, sitting down on the small steps between the cabin and the cockpit, tilting his head, “How can you be so relaxed?”

James shrugged, “Maybe ‘cause I know we’ll be ok.” 

Steve smiled, looking away, “That makes one of us.”

Walking over, James reached out to grab Steve’s shoulder, pulling him to his feet, “C’mon,” he said simply.

Steve laughed, looking up at James as the smuggler dragged him to the middle of the main cabin, “What are you doing?”

“Teaching you to dance,” James said, factually.

“ _Why_?” Steve asked, smiling but confused.

James smirked, placing one of Steve’s hands on his shoulder and taking the other in his own, “Because you have _got_ to relax,” he bobbed his eyebrows, “Plus when we get back home we’re going to go out and do some dancing, there’s a club I know. I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself.”

For a second, Steve thought about pulling away. This was approaching dangerously intimate territory and he didn’t want James clued in on just how much his crush had grown. But the music was catchy and James was grinning with such enthusiasm that Steve figured it wouldn’t hurt, right? And, after all, it would be weirder to say no, at this point. James already had them swaying gently with the beat.

Steve rolled his eyes a little, but looked at James expectantly, “Fine. Show me your moves, Barnes.”

James laughed, “Ok, first of all, I don’t like the suspicion in your tone,” he said, furrowing his brow with mock indignation, adding quickly and pointedly, “I’ve _got_ the moves.”

Steve nodded, “Mmhmm, yeah,” he said, “lots of talk but not a lot of dancing.”

James scoffed, his face breaking into a wide smile, “Just pay attention and try to keep up. I’ll have you dancing like a pro.”

Although he wasn’t about to argue with James’ statement, Steve highly doubted if his partner knew what he was getting into. Steve had about as much coordination as he had muscle mass (not a lot).

As they danced in the ship’s cabin, Steve let himself fall into the sound of the slow, sort of jazzy music and James’ patient instructions. An easy smile was on his lips and laughter echoed through the ship every time he or James made a misstep.

James’ blue eyes were shining with happiness as he and Steve worked their way (falteringly) through the dance.

That alone was enough to make Steve forget for a time where they were going. To make him forget that they were risking their lives on this mission.

All there was, in that moment, was James. His laughter, his smile, the way he moved to keep Steve on the right step, his voice soft and low and edged with a joyful chuckle.

“Ok, ok, now the step back part again,” James said quietly.

Steve glanced down at his feet momentarily before remembering what James had said about keeping his eyes on his partner and looking back at James.

James beamed, winking a little, “See. You’re a natural,” he bit his lip, adding quietly, “Next I guess I gotta teach you how to _lead_.”

Steve furrowed his brow, “What’s leading?”

James laughed, “The part I’m doing right now,” he shrugged, “the ‘male’ role if genders meant anything. Now we do the spin.”

Steve spun away from James, saying, with a snort, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, I still don’t have the-” 

He stumbled over a wayward boot he’d neglected to stow away under his bunk and nearly fell except that James still had ahold of his hand. 

“Whoa, whoa, watch it!” James said, jumping forward to catch him by the waist and pull him up until he was securely on his feet again.

Steve laughed a little, staring up at James (whose face was suddenly mere inches away from his), “Like I was saying,” he said, swallowing and trying to mentally force his burning cheeks to cool off, “I don’t think I have the basics down yet.”

James’ arm was still tight around Steve’s waist, his other hand still gripping Steve’s firmly, leaving little room for Steve to back away…

Not that he was trying to back away. 

James smiled a little, crooked smile, “I think you’re doing fine.”

Steve blinked, opening his mouth to speak but hesitating, feeling his heart pounding in his chest (and not just because he’d nearly fallen on his face). 

“Buc-”

The music above them cut out as a loud “ _beep_ ” echoed through the ship.

“Shit, someone’s gotta fly this thing,” James laughed as he released Steve and ran to the cockpit, disappearing before Steve could really process it.

Steve closed his eyes, breathing in and out to try to steady his racing heart.

_Bucky_. 

It had been on his lips and he’d almost said it out loud. 

He scrubbed his hands over his eyes. He’d almost said it out loud and he had _meant to_. He had _wanted_ to. 

“Steve, you might want to get buckled in!” James called from the front of the ship, his voice acting as a crashing wave of reality into Steve’s mind.

He bit his lip and put on his most convincing smile, pushing everything out of his mind.

_It’s not real_ , he reminded himself. 

_Just a fantasy_.

He turned on his heel and walked quickly to the cockpit, clambering up the steps and slipping into his seat.

“What’s up?” he asked James, as if he hadn’t been about to confess the depth of his affections.

James’ brow was furrowed as he tapped out commands on the ship’s computer. He didn’t even look up as he spoke.

“This next section. We might run into some kind of asteroid belt, I think,” he pulled a face, “this data card didn’t say anything about it, but all the charts say it’s there, so,” he shrugged, “I figured it’s better to be prepared to do a bit of dodgy flying.”

Steve chuckled, saying flatly, “Ooh, my favorite.”

James laughed and finally glanced over, “I gave you warning this time,” he said, “I didn’t want you throwing up in the bathroom again.”

“Is that consideration for me or because you didn’t want to clean it up?” Steve asked sarcastically.

James snorted and reached over to shove Steve’s shoulder playfully, “Oh, shut up, punk.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but said nothing, staring out the viewport windows in silent thought.

His grand ideas of soulmates might have been a fantasy but _this_ … camaraderie. The easy silences and the innate trust. The friendship they had… 

This was real.

He could protect _this_. Even if that meant never telling James how much he really felt.

Even if that meant having nothing _more_ than this.

***

James had never been to an ice planet before.

Sure, yeah, he’d been to _cold_ places. Places that _had_ ice. But that was different. Jotunheim was in its own league. It was a frozen wasteland on steroids. In every conceivable way, it was exactly the type of planet James hated.

Snow and ice, with bonus snow and ice being blown in your face by freezing winds.

Not exactly a place that makes you want to build a vacation home.

After _Winter_ had landed, James and Steve changed in preparation for the cold, layering as much winter gear as they had.

“It’s well below zero out there,” James muttered, pulling on an insulated jacket with a shake of his head, “No place has any business being that cold.”

Steve laughed, “You tell that to the planet.”

James smirked, rolling his eyes a little as he led the way to the cargo bay. He tugged on his gloves as they walked, and beside him Steve was adjusting the thick scarf around his neck.

Layered under as much clothing as he was, Steve was shaped less like a person and more like a walking pastry puff. James would have laughed at him if he wasn’t worried about the shorter man taking offence.

The reality of the outside world set in as the cargo doors opened and a harsh gust of icy wind blasted in. James grimaced and looked at Steve as he grabbed his snow goggles. The lenses deadened the glare from the snow and protected their eyes from the elements.

With one last smile, James pulled his scarf securely over the lower part of his face and grabbed the crate of cargo to be delivered. As they walked down the ramp and into the freezing cold, James heard Steve shout over the howling wind.

“Where do we go from here?!”

Before James could respond, a different voice spoke in a by-now-familiar drawl.

“You follow me.”

James looked over, surprised to see Loki dressed in hardly more than what he’d been wearing on Asgard —a simple jacket, no gloves, and a vaguely annoyed expression.

Loki’s eyebrow arched upwards and he glanced at the crate in James’ hands, “That’s the Stokesia Oblata?”

James nodded, “Sixty pounds, vacuum sealed,” he said, his voice muffled by his scarf.

Loki looked satisfied with that. He tilted his head a little, “Are we going to stand around, or are we going to move?”

Beside him, James barely heard an annoyed scoff from Steve as he turned away to close _Winter_ ’s cargo bay behind them. As the ramp clattered back, James felt an involuntary shiver run through his body, as if it was just suddenly sinking in that they were stuck out here in the cold until the job was done.

As they started to walk, following a couple steps behind Loki, James asked, calling over the wind.

“So, what, temperatures below freezing are just comfortable for Asgardians?” 

Loki looked back at him with an eyeroll, “Do I look _un_ comfortable?”

James bit his lip, “Guess not.”

“Then you already have your answer,” Loki said simply. 

Steve looked at James and even though his face was entirely covered James had a pretty good idea what was going on in the shorter man’s head. James smiled beneath his scarf and shook his head a little.

He supposed chatting as they walked was out of the question.

For who knew how long (maybe Loki did) they struggled through the snow and ice, with the wind blowing almost constantly. Or, more accurately, James, who was hauling a sixty pound cargo case, and Steve, whose legs were much shorter than his companions’, ‘struggled’ while Loki spent a lot of time giving them annoyed looks because they couldn’t keep up with the pace he set.

Finally, as they climbed up a shallow incline, heading for what looked like tall cliffsides, Loki turned back to address them both.

“We’re nearly to our destination. The Jotuns will be suspicious of you because you’re outsiders,” he said, “so stay silent, don’t speak to anyone unless they address you first.”

Steve snorted, “What, and they’ll be fine with an Asgardian?”

Loki gave Steve a longsuffering look, “Secondly, _don’t_ call me Asgardian under any circumstance. Don’t mention Asgard at all, in fact, and don’t use my name,” he raised his eyebrows, “Call me ‘Loptr’ if you have to get my attention but I would prefer that you don’t speak at all.”

James narrowed his eyes, despite how he knew Loki probably wouldn’t see past the tinted lenses of his goggles. 

“Why bring us at all if you were going to do all the talking yourself?” he asked.

Loki gestured at the crate in James’ hand, “Someone had to carry the case.”

“So we’re just your pack mules?” James said flatly.

“Pretty much,” Loki said, smirking and turning away again.

Steve scrambled up the hill after Loki, saying quickly, “Wait a minute, so you’re planning to walk into a group of Jotuns like they’re _not_ going to recognize an Asgardian when they see one?”

When Loki turned around to look at Steve, his irises had changed to a deep red, his skin turned to a pale blue with lifted swirls and ridges across his forehead, cheeks, and chin.

“They won’t,” he said, his jaw set in an annoyed line that left little room for questions.

James swallowed down his surprise. 

The guy had said disguises were a specialty of his, right?

They got to the top of the ridge and James thought he saw the shine of lights against the cliffs up ahead. As Loki continued leading them straight across the flat expanse before them, the lights seemed to become clearer, and James grew more certain that they were signs of civilization, not just refractions from the cloud-shrouded sun.

But there was also something moving toward them across the wasteland. Something that was kicking up a massive cloud of ice as it traveled.

James squinted and used his hand to shield his eyes further against the glare from the snow. 

It looked like a transport of some kind, seeming to skim just barely over the land, if it touched it at all. Even as James watched, what had looked like one mass broke into three distinct shapes, one in the center and two moving outward as if to flank them.

“That’s not a welcoming party, I take it,” James said, loud enough that he knew Loki would hear. 

The thin Asgardian didn’t respond, though, just kept them moving forward.

James edged marginally closer to Steve, hoping to quiet some of his anxiety with the proximity.

The transports were massive, much bigger than James would have guessed. It appeared now to be something like a single-passenger speeder, he could make out a single humanoid form sitting atop each of the three shapes.

James recalled when he’d come to the Yggdrasil Galaxy before…

How the other soldiers in his squad had called the Jotuns “Frost Giants”.

He hadn’t thought it was a literal nickname.

Loki slowed them to a stop as the Jotun speeders reached them. Three absolutely massive blue-skinned figures dismounted from their transports and walked the distance between the speeders and them within a couple strides. Then, the one in the middle knelt down in front of them.

James kept his attention on the one who was kneeling. He thought he’d probably get a crick in his neck if he tried to look up at the two flanking Jotuns for any significant amount of time.

“Well,” the middle Jotun said, tilting his head and smirking, “if it isn’t the little runt. Back again so soon?”

Loki chuckled, “Dalk, how wonderful to see you again,” he smiled, opening his arms as if to show he was no threat, “I come with a gift.”

“These aliens?” Dalk asked, looking at James and Steve with quiet mistrust, “Bringing outsiders here unannounced, Loptr… I don’t trust it”

“They work for me,” Loki said, “I’m here to deliver on a promise I made to Laufey.”

Dalk scoffed, turning his attention back to Loki, “That so?”

“I presume the city is still struggling with widespread Djinge Fever cases?” Loki asked, his eyebrows raising.

Dalk looked at Loki, his smirk disappearing, “You managed to find the flowers?”

Loki shrugged, taking a breath to say, in a tone of nonchalance, “I managed to _buy_ the flowers for no small fee,” he gestured vaguely at James and Steve, “But I won’t bore you with details, these gentlemen are from Midgard. They’ve come a long way and I’m sure that Laufey would prefer to see their cargo delivered sooner rather than later.”

Dalk’s shoulders squared and he spoke in a measured tone, “If you have what you say you do, prove it.”

Bowing his head a little and stepping back, Loki murmured a quick, “Of course,” and turned around to face James, gesturing for the smuggler to hold the case out for him.

James hefted the case up and presented it. Loki unsnapped the catches and flipped the lid off deftly, turning back to the Jotuns and waving an arm in a showy manner.

Dalk leaned in to study the case’s contents (lots of small, single-ration bags of dried, reddish-looking flowers), then nodded once and stood up.

“It’s all in order. Breik, you’ll accommodate the runt with you and Fikrey will take the aliens,” Dalk barked, walking back to his speeder.

Loki closed the cargo case and smirked a little, saying in a low voice, “You’re doing well so far, Barnes,” he raised an eyebrow, “now just keep quiet as you have, you’ll be paid in no time.”

James wanted to wipe that self-righteous grin from Loki’s face, but he merely gave the man a cold smile, whispering.

“You’re lucky you’re paying me well.”

Loki grinned, chuckling somewhere deep in his throat, “So, there _is_ a soldier still in there somewhere. The real _fighter_ , just waiting for his opportunity.”

James’ eyebrows drew together, his jaw tightening as his back muscles stiffened. He didn’t know what the _hell_ that comment was supposed to mean, but he didn’t like Loki’s tone. 

He was actually pretty sure he just didn’t like _Loki_. Plain and simple.

Before James could respond, Loki turned away, walking toward one of the Jotun speeders. 

“What happened?” Steve asked, walking over to stand near James.

“N… Nothing,” James said, shaking his head, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder in an almost half-mindful way, seeking something to ground him back to the present.

James frowned suddenly, looking at Steve as he felt the smaller man shivering.

“Steve-”

“I’m alright,” Steve said quickly, rubbing his gloved hands together to warm them, “We’ve just been standing around too long.”

James nodded (not really comforted by that explanation) and started walking to their assigned speeder.

As a Frost Giant twice his size helped him and Steve into the single, giant seat behind the pilot’s chair, James promised himself he’d get them off this planet and away from their slimy employer as fast as possible.

Steve was sitting so close that James could still feel the shivers that wracked him. James put an arm around him and pulled him slightly closer since it was all he could really do to help. 

As the speeder’s engines roared to life and they started to move across the icy wasteland, James couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made the right choice. He should have told Loki to take the cargo the rest of the way alone, that he and Steve were going back to the ship.

Now they were heading straight for a Jotun city. No warmth in sight.

This job had gone from bad to worse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH I'm so sorry to leave it on (another) cliffhanger!! The next chapter is literally already started because THIS chapter was supposed to have a whole lot more happening but then the words got away from me and I figured I wouldn't make anyone wait for me to write a 15,000 word chapter.... 
> 
> Once again, I'm so so sorry for the.... *checks watch* 6 month long hiatus?? goddamnit.   
> I truly hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I swear that I'll be doing my best to keep the time between updates short. ^_^'


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go incredibly wrong and James might just regret this mission for the rest of his life but... a little bit of good comes out of it, too...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do ya'll realize what makes this chapter update special? :D It's been exactly two years since February 27th 2016, the day I posted the first chapter of this fic. Heebie jeebies look at us now. 
> 
> ANYWAY I hope you enjoy this chapter, I promise this time we're focusing less on Asgardian Drama and more on the core Stucky Drama that this fic is for :P

The Jotun city was huge (Frost _Giants_ , James reminded himself), and as soon as they entered, James was struck by how… _open_ everything was.

Humans would have built biodomes. Heated gardens and beautiful greenery beneath a safe and secure bubble while snow and ice and wind raged outside. But here the city was sprawled out like any average human metropolis. Except everything seemed in some state of disrepair, and James couldn’t tell if that was just the natural wear from the harsh environment or a sign of a deeper, society-wide lack of resource. There were clunky transports and sleek speeders rushing from place to place, streets bustling with activity, and people dressed in very few layers, clearly comfortable with the freezing temperatures.

James and Steve sat closely huddled together for the duration of the ride into the city. As the transports slowed to a stop outside of some grand but run-down building, James unwrapped himself from Steve (who was still, worriedly, shivering) and allowed a Jotun to assist him in climbing off of the transport. 

“But this is the hospital,” Loki said, standing beside the transport he’d gotten off of but not moving any closer to the front doors of the building.

Dalk snorted, “What’s wrong, runt? Worried you’ll catch something?”

Loki grimaced, tossing the Frost Giant a sour look, “Last I checked, Djinge Fever doesn’t discriminate who gets infected,” he looked back at the broad, looming doors of the hospital, “Besides, I thought you were taking me to see Laufey.”

“He’s waiting for you inside. He thought it would be impressive to hand the flowers off to the hospital directly,” Dalk said, a small self-satisfied smirk on his face as he walked to the door.

James kept Steve close at his side as they followed. The steps were taller and broader than would be comfortable for any average-sized human, almost requiring he and Steve to jump awkwardly from one to the next. A couple steps ahead, Loki was somehow making the jumps seem seamless and fluid, as if he was used to the exertion. 

As they entered through the front doors, escaping from the wind but not the cold itself, James pulled off his snow goggles and glanced around. The lights above seemed to shine harshly through the cold, still air, groups of Jotuns talked in low voices and a few looked over at the rag-tag group as they wandered in.

Apparently, Dalk had called ahead, because a older-looking Jotun woman stepped through a door on the far end of the room and gestured for them to accompany her further into the building. She spoke to Dalk in the Jotun language as they walked, her tone (James could only assume) crisp and businesslike. 

The rooms they walked through were wide and filled with hospital beds, partitioned off from one another with screens. All around them, blue-skinned Jotuns rushed from place to place or sat in the beds. James spent a couple minutes of their walk looking around curiously, but when he started getting strange stares and returned looks from the Jotuns, he bit the inside of his cheek and focused on keeping his eyes straight ahead.

There was no reason for him to go making a bunch of sick people mad at him, right?

He glanced at Steve to check on him, reaching over to gently tug on his hand.

Steve looked up sharply, startled at the contact, “Hmm? What’s up?” he whispered.

James shrugged a little, smiling, “Just checking in.”

Steve let a dry chuckle escape him and he shrugged back, “I’m alright. Ready to go home.”

_Home_. James smiled a little at the expression (even though he’d heard Steve refer to the ship with that fondness dozens of times, he didn’t think he’d ever grow tired of hearing it) and lightly nudged Steve’s shoulder, an unspoken promise hanging in the air.

“ _Soon as we’re done here, we’ll go home._ ”

Especially because Steve still looked paler than usual. And James didn’t know what kind of cold resistance Am’rics usually had, but this weather was clearly doing nothing good for Steve.

Finally, the group followed the Jotun woman to a doorway and she waved them inside, standing to one side of the door and not entering herself.

In front of them, Loki’s back stiffened. His entire posture changing his pace from the easy, sauntering sort of gait to something more on edge. Almost the same as when James had watched Odin yell at him. 

So, naturally, James braced himself, too. Since clearly Loki knew more than he did, at this point.

***

Steve had been watching Loki carefully since they’d met up with Dalk and the other Frost Giants. There was something about the way he spoke to them. Something Steve couldn’t quite pin down, not yet, anyway…

And there were more important things to worry about, like the slow loss of feeling in his toes and fingers, despite the heavy cold weather gear he’d carefully donned.

Or, in this particular moment, there was the single Jotun sitting down directly in front of them, flanked on both sides by imposing-looking guards.

Despite the relative smallness of the space, the way everyone stood in a sort of dumbstruck awe and reverence of the seated Jotun made the atmosphere feel like that of a throne room.

Loki bowed his head, “It’s an honor to see you again, Laufey.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he was supposed to follow suit and bow. No one else in the room did, and for now Laufey’s full attention was on Loki.

Laufey gestured with one hand at the crate in James’ hand, “The Stokesia,” he said simply. 

James passed the crate wordlessly to Loki and backed off, coming to stand close to Steve again. Discomfort rolled off of James almost visibly, and Steve could hardly blame him. This job felt less like a job and more like standing around while others talked. 

At least they were being paid, right?

Loki opened the crate and presented the contents to Laufey. He spoke in a rather self-important tone.

“I managed to acquire the flowers at great cost. But I gift them to you, a gesture of good faith in our people’s time of need,” he paused, adding, with a significant glance at Dalk, “Seems even a _runt_ can be of use to you, sir.”

Laufey stared down into the crate, then leaned back in his seat and looked over Loki thoughtfully, his gaze glancing just barely at Steve and James where they stood behind.

“You’ve done well, Loptr. But I’m concerned that you’ve brought unknown outsiders to our city. Two Midgardians who managed to avoid detection by our sentinels, and you say they work for you,” Laufey raised an eyebrow, “What explanation do you have?”

Loki didn’t even look at James or Steve, “I gave them the flight path information which kept them out of the sentinel’s sensors. I can share it with you, as well, in order to further fortify our defenses, but you must understand that I could not trust the main galactic highways. I feared the Asgardians would intercept them.”

“You should have notified me,” Laufey said firmly, “I would have created a path between the sentinels.”

“With all respect, sir,” Loki said, his voice steady but still filled with deference, “I wanted to prove I could assist you on my own,” another spiked look at Dalk, “So there would be no doubts to my usefulness.”

Laufey was silent for a moment, before he let out a low breath and gestured at one of his guards. The guard stepped forward and took the case from Loki and disappeared out of the room.

“Rest assured, Loptr, your usefulness is more than apparent, you’ve proven yourself time and again,” Laufey said, “And in this circumstance, your aide to our people will be recognized.”

Loki shook his head, smiling a little, “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I only ask that the people who need the Stokesia most will have it.”

Laufey’s eyes narrowed, examining Loki, “Then allow me to personally recognize your efforts.”

As Loki looked down in what Steve saw as merely playing at humility, Laufey continued, in the same even tone.

“You curry favor with me for reasons you’ve yet to reveal, and your efforts have not gone to waste. But I would find it easier to trust your ‘good faith’ if you were less mysterious about your intentions.”

Loki met Laufey’s eyes, a light smile pulling at his lips, “I am an open book, sir. I seek only to help you and our people.”

Laufey didn’t seem convinced (something Steve considered a smart move), but didn’t seem deterred by Loki’s continued crypticness. He merely nodded and turned his attention to James and Steve.

“You two smugglers,” he said, “tell me your names.”

James dipped his head a little, “James Barnes and Ste-” he stopped himself, looking at Steve.

Steve smirked a little, amused at James’ continued inability to say his proper name, “Do’oridto Roge’ehrs, sir,” he said quickly.

“Speak to anyone of your visit here, and there will be consequences,” Laufey said, an edge to his voice rendering this simple threat into something much more sinister.

James nodded, “Discretion is a smuggler’s best trait, sir.”

Steve couldn’t help but wonder who exactly Laufey thought they would tell. If any authorities heard they’d gone to Jotunheim there would be too many questions to answer, and if any other criminals heard about it, it wasn’t as if they could give them directions. Especially since, if Loki was true to his word, the path they’d taken to get there would be impassable.

Finally, Laufey waved a hand, as if brushing them away like pests, “You may go now, both of you. Food will be provided for you, but I wish to speak to Loptr alone.”

Steve’s heart fell a little. He had hoped that Loki would take them back to their ship immediately (the cold was clawing through his layers of clothes as if they weren’t even there). 

As they stepped out of the room, an involuntary shiver ran through Steve. James noticed the movement and pulled him closer, though he said nothing.

It was a guilty feeling, seeing James’ brows furrowed with worry for him. Steve didn’t want James concerned about him, especially not on a job like this. It made him feel inadequate. 

This planet felt like it was stealing the warmth from him faster and faster. And he just wanted to go home.

***

James had lost his patience for this damn planet. 

The food they were brought was a mix of vegetables and some kind of cubed protein (James couldn’t tell if it was organic or some kind of manufactured substitute). It was cold (big surprise) and was apparently meant to be served that way. Steve barely touched his, picking at it half-heartedly while shivers still moved through his small form.

James had tried to talk to him, keep him focused, but Steve’s concentration kept slipping. 

He had stopped a Jotun hospital worker not too long before and asked about a blanket or some kind of hot beverage, but no one had ever come back to deliver anything.

Finally, he hauled Steve to his feet and started to walk in slow circles around the room under the watchful eye of their Jotun guard, hoping that the movement would keep Steve from getting too cold. The shorter man walked with stumbling steps, as if he couldn’t feel his feet (a fact that James was sincerely worried was true).

He hated this job, he hated this freezing planet, and he most certainly hated Loki for dragging them all this way for no reason. They were being paid to stand around and get colder by the minute.

When Loki finally exited the room, James almost sighed with relief, except that he was too busy glaring. 

“We’re leaving now,” James said firmly, as Loki approached.

Loki’s eyebrows shot up, “I didn’t realize you were giving the orders.”

Steve was standing weakly beside James, but his focus seemed a thousand miles from where they were.

James’ jaw tightened, “Well, unless you’ve got another meeting you want us to stand around and wait for you to finish, I’m going back to my damn ship.”

Loki sighed, tucking his hands into his pockets casually and strolling toward the exit, tilting his head marginally in a silent gesture for them to follow.

James kept his arm around Steve’s shoulders and walked quickly until they had fallen into step beside Loki. 

When they were back outside, Loki continued walking down the street, saying over his shoulder, “There’s a place up here that will rent us a transport.”

Steve shivered as the wind picked up around them and James glanced at Loki, “How long will it take to get back to our ship?”

Loki shrugged, “Not long.”

Suddenly, from beside James, Steve spoke.

“So does anyone at your work know what your really are?” he said, his voice low and heavy with significance. 

Loki didn’t break stride, “What do you mean?”

James couldn’t help but wonder the same thing, and he looked at Steve with confusion.

“I mean that you’re Jotun,” Steve said simply, “And you’ve been disguising yourself as something else. Not the other way around.”

James raised his eyebrows in surprise, trying to catch Steve’s eye, but the shorter man was staring straight at Loki and wouldn’t look at James.

Loki scoffed, “And what evidence do you have for that?”

“When you found out we were going into the hospital, you were actually scared, or else you wouldn’t have shown it,” Steve said, “And don’t say you were acting, because in every other way you were trying to prove you were strong so Dalk and the others wouldn’t think less of you. But you slipped up.”

James frowned, turning his attention to Loki, who was still striding confidently, though his face betrayed him.

Steve was right.

“How did you manage to hide it? Around the others, I mean?” James asked, referring to the Asgardians in the APA office, “Doesn’t the lie get old after a while?”

Loki was looking straight ahead and hardly seemed to spare a thought for either James or Steve as he spoke, his tone light, “Disguises are a skill I’ve always had. And as for lies, the man who took me in and called me ‘son’ was the first one to lie, really. The rest were built on his firm foundation.” Despite his attempt at nonchalance, an edge of bitterness crept into Loki’s tone at the end.

James bit his lip. Alright. So Odin, presumably, had taken Loki in… but _why_?

“Back where I come from,” Steve said, his voice quiet, barely carrying over the wind, “people called me ‘runt’, too.”

Loki’s jaw tightened, a sneer picking at his lips as he finally looked at Steve with such malice James knew instantly that a nerve had been struck.

“Do you think that petty fact makes us alike?” Loki asked, bristling, “You know nothing about me, do not pretend to understand.”

Steve shrank into James’ side, not bothering to murmur an apology.

James didn’t think the skinny Jotun deserved one.

A silence fell over their group and Loki ignored them for the rest of their walk, except to glance out of the corner of his eye to make sure they followed. A fact that James couldn’t help but be thankful for. By the time they reached the transport station, James’ only concern was for Steve. He didn’t care to wonder what Loki felt.

“Stay out here,” Loki instructed, mounting the steps to the main office.

“I don't think so, shorty,” James said firmly, tugging Steve along with him as he followed Loki to the door.

“ _James_ ,” Steve hissed warningly, only a moment before Loki turned to look at James.

There was nothing but barely-contained anger in Loki’s eyes. A rage burned hotly at the edges of his words, singeing them with threat as he spoke.

“Call me that again and I guarantee you won't make it off this planet alive, much less get paid for your time here,” his head tilted a little and he raised a single eyebrow, “Now tell me again, what were you saying?”

James clenched his jaw, staring Loki down with every ounce of determination he had, “I was saying that I'm tired of waiting up on you. We’re smugglers, not your personal assistants,” he took a half-step closer so he and Loki were nose-to-nose, “And I was saying that I want to get off this damn planet. Sooner rather than later. So I'm well within my rights to make sure you get us the fastest way back to our ship.”

Loki smiled coldly and nodded once, as if this answer solidified some decision for him. He turned away sharply and walked into the office without another word.

James hesitated a moment before stepping toward the door. 

‘Cause, well, Loki hadn't technically repeated his order for them to stay outside.

Steve tugged weakly on James’ sleeve, “We don't have to-”

“It's too damn cold for you to be out here,” James said firmly, continuing on his way and holding the door for Steve to go inside.

Steve grumbled a little, but stepped inside anyway. 

James followed him and couldn't help but think that _everywhere_ , indoors and outdoors, was too damn cold for Steve.

Loki was already speaking to one of the Jotuns behind the desk, and as James and Steve approached it became clear that there was going to be a problem.

“-coming in from the north. Won't be able to run a transport further than the plateau,” the Jotun was saying, crossing her arms with finality.

Loki pursed his lips and glanced at James and Steve as they came to a stop a few feet behind him. He only addressed the Jotun, though.

“You're certain it won't blow over?”

“Not for a few hours, at least,” she said flatly.

Loki looked at James and shrugged, “There you have it,” he said, “No transport back to your ship for a few hours.”

James frowned, “But they can take us to the edge of the plateau, that's where they picked us up earlier, why can't we just walk the rest of the way like we did before?”

The woman scoffed, looking him and Steve up and down. “Then you’d be a couple frozen off-worlders lost in the snow,” she shook her head, “You don't want to be out in a Jotunheim storm.”

James bit his lip, “It's only a mile or so to walk from the edge of the plateau, right?” he directed the question at Loki.

Loki rolled his eyes, “It's not a matter of the distance. It's when the snow blows so heavily you can barely see your own feet, much less know which direction your ship is in. It’s freezing to death before you can get anywhere.”

James could feel a shiver run through Steve and he fought the urge to grab Loki by the collar and drag him away.

Instead, he controlled his tone and tilted his head, saying in a firm voice, “Can I have a word with you in private?”

Loki stood completely still for a moment, his jaw shifting as he considered this request (and the itch to grab the scrawny Jotun grew only stronger), before nodding faintly and taking a few steps away.

James squeezed Steve’s shoulder and whispered, “I’ll be right back.”

He expected Steve to fight him on the matter and insist that he be included, but the shorter man only nodded his agreement, which sent a shard of fresh anxiety through James. Steve was never the type to be left out when James tried to talk business.

James followed Loki to a spot a couple yards away and leaned in, speaking in a low voice, “If we’re supposed to be on this planet for another few hours you sure as hell better find us somewhere warm.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, “Will that be coming out of your paycheck, then?”

James’ hands tightened into fists, “I couldn’t give less of a shit,” he whispered, “I’m just worried about my partner. He’s freezing and I won’t stand around here and watch him…” he drifted off without saying the last word, which stuck to his tongue with the heaviness of it.

“I assure you, Mr. Barnes,” Loki said, his tone light, “if your partner dies here I’ll reimburse you financially.”

James grabbed Loki’s jacket roughly and almost punched him, going so far as to draw his fist back. Loki didn’t even move to defend himself, though, seeming perfectly alright with taking a hit. A fact which reminded James sharply that this was the only person who was going to make this trip worth anything.

“Go on, hit me if you think that will help your friend,” Loki said, smirking.

James released Loki, but his glare stayed in place, “Take us somewhere warm. Now.”

“I would love to,” Loki drawled, “but anywhere on this planet that runs hotter than freezing is considered inhospitable.”

“I don’t care if you have to set something on fire yourself, just make it happen,” James was starting to lose his patience and his temper wasn’t far behind.

Loki narrowed his eyes at him, “I am not beholden to you, Barnes.”

James bit back a snarky comment and settled for pointing out the only thing that mattered to him at this moment, “If we stay here, my partner will freeze.”

“If you leave, you’ll both freeze to death. And that’s a guarantee,” Loki countered.

“It’s better than doing nothing,” James said, through clenched teeth, “I won’t stand around and watch Steve suffer.”

Loki let out a breath, pursing his lips in thought. He was quiet for a minute, before he said, in a quiet voice, “It _would_ be easier to send you back to your ship.”

James furrowed his brow at Loki’s sudden change, “Great, then do that. How?”

Loki rolled his eyes and reached into one of his pockets, “This will keep you moving in the direction of your ship,” he said, handing a small charm to James.

James frowned and looked at the thing. It was a circular disk with a triangle-shaped crystal at the center. It looked almost like a compass but with no markings on it, only the crystal’s point, which shifted always point at one edge of the disk. There was a faint red glow off to one side (in the direction the crystal was pointing) that stayed in the same spot no matter which direction the disk was turned.

“What is it?” James asked, frowning.

Loki smirked a little, “Thanks to my people’s aversion to outsiders, your ship is made up of a different metal composition than anything else on Jotunheim,” he shrugged his shoulders a little, “I merely enchanted this device to scan for the metals in your ship. It’s how I found your landing site so quickly earlier today.”

James gave Loki a flat look, “You _enchanted_ it?”

Loki chuckled, “I forgot about how testy you Midgardians are about magic,” he shook his head, “How small-minded you are, to act like your science is so much more reliable,” he gestured at the charm, adding quickly, “I assure you, whether you believe in magic or not, that pendant will lead you back to your ship.”

James nodded and put the chain around his neck, “Why didn’t you give me this as soon as you heard about the storm, instead of giving us some bullshit about having to stick around for a few more hours?”

“Because I thought you would prefer not to die,” Loki said, “but apparently you’re too determined to kill yourself.”

When James only stared at Loki, unsure if the Jotun was joking, Loki rolled his eyes and added, in a sarcastic tone.

“However, I suppose if you _do_ die that saves me trouble, as the dead don’t require paychecks.”

James scoffed, “You’re impossible, do you know that? Are you an asshole just because it’s fun or because you don’t know how to be anything else?”

Loki shrugged, turning back toward the desk and stepping away from James, “None of your business, smuggler,” he paused a moment, though, giving James a thoughtful look before saying, in his usual curt tone, “And the cost of this transport will be coming out of your paycheck, of course.”

“Of course,” James grumbled, walking back to where Steve was waiting.

Steve glanced at James, his usually bright eyes tired as he met James’ gaze.

“What’s up?” Steve asked weakly.

James put an arm around his partner and forced a smile, “We’re heading for home, Stevie.”

Loki’s words about them both dying out in the cold echoed in his head and he _prayed_ (to whatever deities would listen, really) that he’d made the right decision.

***

When the transport dropped them back at the edge of the ice plateau, Steve almost wished they would have stayed back in the freezing city. The wind and snow had picked up so much that he could barely see, even with his snow goggles in place. And, still, the cold seemed to cut straight through Steve’s layers of clothing, leaving his hands and feet numb and his body wracked with shivers.

They started walking, the small, glowing disk clutched in one of James’ gloved hands pointing their way as they struggled through the snow and ice.

Steve kept looking down at his feet, trying not to lose his footing when he couldn’t feel his toes enough to tell what was a solid place to step and what wasn’t.

Neither of them spoke, both of them walking with shoulders hunched against the bitter wind. Steve reached up to pull his scarf more securely around his face before crossing his arms again, tucking his hands against his body in an attempt to keep them warm.

But the colder he got, the harder it was to keep going. Even with the promise of warmth back on _Winter’s Heart_ , all he wanted was to stop. To curl up somewhere and sleep, trying to stay as warm as possible.

Steve stumbled, tripping over his own feet to fall face-first into the snow. For a moment he sat there in the ice, unable to find the energy to get up.

_You need to get up_ , he told himself, squeezing his eyes shut and willing his lethargic limbs into motion.

And then there was a hand on his arm, and James’ voice speaking gently (slightly muffled by the scarf) to him over the sound of the storm around them.

“It’s just a little further, Stevie,” James said, pulling on Steve’s shoulder, “Come on. We’re going to make it.”

Steve let himself be hauled to his feet, but shook his head, leaning into James as his legs threatened to give up again.

“I’m tired,” he said, looking down, “I don’t…” he shook his head again, this time trying to shake away the frustrated tears that were forming in his eyes.

But he didn’t think he could make it. He didn’t think he could walk another step.

James put his arms around Steve, holding him close for a moment, “I know you’re tired, buddy,” he said. He glanced down at the glowing pendant in his hand, the red light glinting off the lenses of his goggles.

Then, James looked at Steve and patted his shoulder, “Come on, get on my back, I’ll carry you.”

Steve shrugged his shoulders, the last vestiges of his ego bruised enough for him to speak in a low tone, “You don’t have to.”

“Steve, you’re shaking, stumbling, I’m not going to make you keep walking. My legs are longer than yours, I can get us home faster.”

Steve took a breath and nodded just barely. James squeezed his arm in a comforting way before turning around and crouching enough for Steve to clamber up and put his arms around James’ neck.

“Don’t worry, Steve,” James said, starting to walk once more, glancing down every now and then at the glowing charm, “We’re gonna be okay. I promise you.”

Steve nodded into James’ shoulder, but said nothing.

The rhythm of James’ steps was comforting, even if there was a jostling every now and then as he stumbled over the ice or stepped into a snow drift that was deeper than expected. Before long, Steve felt himself slipping, his hands loosening their grip as sleep overtook him.

“Hey, hey, Steve,” James said, though his voice sounded faraway through Steve’s own bleariness, “Stay with me, buddy, we’re almost home.”

One of James’ hands reached back to hold Steve so he didn’t fall, but that light shaking wasn’t enough to keep Steve conscious. He could feel the cold like a cloud all around his mind, pulling him under like icy water. As if his whole body was freezing in this storm.

“Steve? _Steve_!” James’ voice grew more worried, but harder to connect with.

Steve didn’t know why James was so mad at him for sleeping.

He just wanted to get some rest.

***

James was moving as quickly as he could through the snow, his heart racing with panic as he watched the red light on the disk Loki had given him. He was _begging_ that light to get closer. To bring the silhouette of _Winter_ to him through the snow.

Steve had stopped responding.

“We’re getting home, buddy, I promise,” James huffed, out of breath from exertion, his worry bringing him to ramble, “I promise, I promise, I promise.” 

The wind and snow had become nothing more than a barrier. He hardly felt their sting, now, because it was just something that was in the way of him and his ship.

Something that was between him and Steve being safe again.

“I’m such an idiot, Steve,” he continued his rambling as he crested a snowbank and half-stumbled down the other side of it, “I’m a _fucking_ idiot and I’m sorry I ever brought us here. Why the hell did I bring us here?”

He looked down at the charm again. The red light was getting closer and closer to the center crystal and he looked up again, imagining he could see the ship through the snow flurries if he concentrated hard enough. 

His boot slipped on a patch of icy rock and he nearly fell, but just managed to catch himself with an outstretched arm on a nearby boulder. He hissed in pain and glanced at his palm. His glove was torn and a patch of skin had been scraped raw.

“If we die, Stevie,” he said, through clenched teeth, tightening his injured hand into a fist and starting to walk again, “your mom is going to kill me,” he grimaced a bit and added, “And if we live, she’ll probably kill me anyway.”

He looked down at his feet and made sure of his footing as he moved, then looked at the pendant. The red light was incredibly close.

When he looked up, there she was. He blinked a few times, almost convinced that the shadowy shape in the distance was his imagination. But it didn’t disappear. And as he kept walking, it got clearer and clearer.

“There she is, Stevie!” James shouted, laughing with giddiness and picking up the pace as much as he could, “Isn’t she gorgeous? What a lady!” 

He didn’t care that he sounded foolish. He half-ran to _Winter_ and reached up to punch her access code into the lock panel.

As the ramp clanked down, James didn’t even bother to wait for it, he hopped up when it was still a few inches off the ground and rushed (even though his limbs felt like they were made of stone) into the cargo bay to close the door again. 

He ripped his hat and goggles off, gently lowering Steve to the floor. James pulled off his heavy jacket and then knelt down to do the same for Steve, before pulling the smaller man into his arms again and hauling ass up the stairs to the main cabin.

“We’re home now, buddy, we’re home,” he murmured to the unconscious Steve, putting him into his bed and pulling blankets around his shoulders. He reached down and unlaced Steve’s boots, tossing them onto the floor and tucking blankets around him.

“C’mon, Steve,” he said, jumping to his feet to mess with the cabin’s temperature controls, “come back to me. Do you know what kind of paperwork I’d have to deal with if you died here? Not to mention your _mom_? She’d kill me twice.”

Once he finished setting the temperature, he ran to his bed and grabbed all the blankets he had, pausing only to remove his own boots.

“You don’t want me dead, do ya, Stevie?” he asked, half-chuckling because otherwise the fear would overtake him and he wouldn’t know what to do.

“I mean, I _know_ I don’t want _you_ dead, I’d be useless without you. Lying to the cops without you to back me up would land me in prison in a heartbeat.” He went back to Steve’s bunk and carefully wrapped the extra blankets around him before rolling into the bed himself and pulling the neatly bundled Steve to his chest, lending his own heat to the pile. 

James was struggling to come up with topics, but rather than falling silent and leaving himself to a world of too quiet guilt and worry, he talked about the first things coming into his head.

“You gotta stick around so I can keep teaching you how to dance,” he said, tucking Steve’s head under his chin, “Just watch, I’m gonna make you irresistible on the dance floor. You still haven’t learned my best dance moves, the ladies are gonna… gonna fall for you.” He bit his lip and pulled Steve closer, “Or the guys. Whatever. Who wouldn’t fall for you, you’re adorable.”

James smiled crookedly even as his voice fell into a lower tone.

“I fell for you, didn’t I?”

The statement, which felt both vast and very, very small in the empty ship cabin, fell on Steve’s unknowing ears. But James knew. He _knew_ and it terrified him, suddenly, that the first time he had said it out loud was going to be too late. That he had missed his opportunity.

He took a breath, his eyes prickling with tears of frustration and worry and weariness, and let it out slowly before continuing to talk, much quieter now.

“Stick with me, Stevie, please. _Please_. I’m here, I’m with you,” he whispered, “I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, but don’t let that end be here.”

He kept whispering, his voice cracking over words as he half-begged Steve to stay and half-assured him that he was okay.

Then, Steve stirred. Weakly, very, very weakly under his pile of blankets and quiet words.

James stopped talking and stared, wondering if it was his imagination.

Steve moved again, still so small. His brow furrowed marginally and he croaked out a very, very quiet.

“James?”

James could have shouted for joy, his face splitting into a relieved grin. But instead he kept his voice soft.

“I’m here, Steve. We’re on the ship, you’re safe.”

Steve’s brow relaxed, his breathing turning to something that resembled natural sleep, his mouth curving into the tiniest of smiles.

“… Bucky…”

The word hit James center-mass, his breath catching in his throat. He almost expects Steve’s eyes to open and for his partner to smirk and say “haha fooled you”, revealing it all to be a joke.

But it’s not a joke. Steve falls back asleep and James… 

James is caught up in a hundred different questions, none of them were answerable right now and some of them were their own answers.

He took a shaky breath and smiled a little, a wave of almost-relief and almost-worry washing over him. Relief because Steve was alright and, more than that, he… felt the same? Worry because maybe he hadn’t meant it. Maybe it was just a dream, after all.

But, beneath all of that, James _knew_. And that was different. It was a great big pile of tiny moments in his head that he was just now noticing in a different light.

While he’d been smiling into Steve’s eyes and wondering how fast he was falling in love, there must have been moments where Steve had done the same. When James had grown slowly more comfortable in Steve’s presence, feeling more and more like what they had was _home_ … Steve had followed him. Or maybe led the way. And everything they were and are and would become had all clicked into place so smoothly James had never seen it happening. It just was.

They just… became.

And it terrified James as much as it filled him with joy.

He pushed himself up, careful not to wake Steve, and walked over to the kitchen area to prepare something hot to eat. 

They would have to leave soon, but he wanted to make sure Steve was alright. It was the least he could do.

As he finished up with the food, James glanced over at Steve’s sleeping form. The smaller man shifted under the blankets and finally sat up a little, his eyes blinking open and wincing against the light.

James walked over quickly, smiling a little, “Hey, take it easy.” he said, passing a bowl of steaming food into Steve’s hands and pushing him gently back as he tried to get up.

Steve inhaled slowly, his brow furrowing in confusion even as he took the bowl from James. He rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand, asking blearily, “What happened?”

James sat down on the edge of the bed, raising his eyebrows as he tried to formulate the best way to say it all without breaking down and crying because…

_Damnit_ , he’d nearly lost Steve.

“You got cold,” James offered, his smile a little teasing. When Steve only rolled his eyes and half-smiled, James continued, in a slightly more serious tone, “We made it, though. Got you back here and made sure you got warm. How do you feel?”

Steve shrugged, taking a bite of the hot food with a smile, “Better. I can feel my fingers and toes, so I’m guessing they’re all still there and not frozen off somewhere in the snow.”

James laughed, relieved to see Steve’s humor returning, and nodded a little, “I checked, they’re all present and accounted for.”

Steve closed his eyes, chewing a mouthful of food and leaning back with a sigh. He swallowed and said, in a serious tone, “I’m exhausted, though.”

James nodded a little, “I’m gonna get us off this shitty planet,” he reached over and patted Steve’s leg before getting up, “You rest up. I’ll be right there in the cockpit, so if you need anything, just yell.”

Steve reached up and grabbed James’ hand before he could walk away. “You saved my ass, Barnes,” he said, smiling a little, “Guess I owe you.”

“Only returning the favor. You’ve saved my ass plenty,” James grinned, squeezing Steve’s hand once before releasing it and heading for the cockpit.

As he climbed into the pilot’s chair, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he _still_ hadn’t told Steve how he felt, despite his new knowledge that the feelings were returned.

There would be a time and place for that, though. No need to dump the extra weight on Steve was he was just getting back on his feet.

The very, very dubious voice in the back of James’ mind asked him whether he would _ever_ find the right time and place… and James did his best to ignore it.

He _would_ tell Steve…

“ _James ‘Scared of Intimacy’ Barnes, they should call you,_ ” echoed an old, old memory of Dum Dum Dugan, who’d been attempting to make fun of James but not succeeding very well at the time (the comment had gotten flat looks from the other Commandos, which Dugan had rolled his eyes at). 

James let out a low breath and wondered if maybe Dum Dum had been right. Because the thought of telling Steve and _actually_ moving forward from this crush to something more gave James a nervous twist to his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAHHHH I just can't believe it's been two years. It's been so wonderful making this fic happen, and hopefully it won't be two MORE years before it's done. :P There IS a plan (more or less) and I know how this fic is going to end. I just gotta... get us there, right? ^_^' hahaha... yeah. that's the hard part. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this update!! (It's so satisfying to finally be past the big "aha" moment I've been looking forward to writing for MONTHS) and I hOPE TO GET THE NEXT CHAPTER OUT ON TIME because there's gonna be a lot of stuff going on from here on out, it's probably gonna get a bit more... plot heavy? as much fun as it has been to have these kids dancing around each other (sometimes literally), tossing out plot-relevant things here and there, it's getting time for things to really get on a roll :D (((here's hoping I don't mess it up hahaa...)))
> 
> Thank you all so much for two years of fun and fic writing and wonderful, encouraging comments, this fic would really not be the same without all of you!! <3 Love you all!! (And see you next update!!)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things get more complicated, and James makes a very hard decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH I'm sorry there wasn't an update last month!! I had a convention so I spent most of my time costuming!! HOWEVER to make up for it, not only is this chapter done, but I have over 1,000 words of the NEXT chapter already written so MAYBE just maybe I'll get another chapter out very very soon. (Because shit is Going Down)

James hoped that Mrs. Rogers couldn’t see it. Of course, he was almost convinced that she _did_ , but at least she hadn’t said anything about it.

Even through the screen, Sah’rea’s wit and personality were a welcome happiness, forcing smiles onto both of their faces. Especially Steve’s, though. 

Which was enough to make James stop and stare…

Because that big, hearty smile took over Steve’s face, crinkling at the corners of his eyes, brightening every inch of his features. As if he could exhale stardust like a cloud of breath into frigid air.

And James would smile, too, just for seeing him like that.

Sah’rea sighed loudly, “Unfortunately, I have to go,” she said, “I have work in the morning.”

“Alright, _deda_ ,” Steve said, chuckling a little as he checked the time, “Love you. We’ll talk to you next week.”

James saluted, smirking the tiniest bit, “Always a pleasure, ma’am.”

Sah’rea snorted and muttered something in Rooklin before saying, at full volume, a smile plucking at the corners of her mouth, “You just stay safe, the both of you.”

“Of course, mom,” Steve said, laughing but sincere, “ _Kharth’ge_.”

“ _Kharth’ge, Do’oridto_. Farewell, James,” Sah’rea said, waving.

James thought he saw a knowing gleam in her eyes as he waved back, murmuring a parting statement as she ended the transmission, but he couldn’t be sure.

As he leaned back in his seat and stretched, he looked over at Steve, his eyes bright, “Your mom seems to be doing well.”

Steve smiled softly, “I’m really glad. Sounds like the hospital is finally giving her some decent shifts,” he said, getting up from his seat and sliding past James to get to the main cabin. 

James nodded along, but his thoughts were far away.

It had been weeks. He still hadn’t told Steve.

Things were not getting better.

Every time he opened his mouth, the words died in his throat, fear gripping his guts like the cold iron jaws of a trap until he said some inane statement instead. 

Steve glanced over at James, as if suddenly realizing that he hadn’t moved from the cockpit yet. The shorter alien furrowed his brow and gestured over his shoulder at the door.

“I was gonna head to the cargo bay for some exercise, you wanna come?” he asked.

James shrugged, tilting his head at the control panel beside him, nervousness creeping against his ribs, “Oh, uh…” he sighed, “I was gonna call around and see if I could find us a job. Cast the nets, you know.”

Steve frowned a bit and took a step toward the cockpit, which sent a fresh wave of discomfort through James.

“A new job already?” Steve asked, tempering the question with a confused laugh, “We’re not even done with the one we have.”

James let Steve’s laughter draw the smallest of smiles from him, “Yeah,” he said, shrugging again. He swallowed and looked away, his expression sobering, “But… y’know, you’ve been reading the same news I have, about the war and all…”

Thankfully, Steve nodded along, catching on quickly to what James was implying, “You’re worried about our prospects now that the GM is around every other corner, with Hydra around the rest?”

James chuckled a little, glancing over to meet Steve’s eyes, “I think we’ll be fine. But I want to put some money away before things get much worse. We might be living slim for a while.”

“Do you want me to stay and help you?” Steve asked.

“Nah, don’t worry,” James said, waving a hand at his partner, “I’m not gonna commit to anything today, I’m just putting us out there. I’ll probably join you in a half hour or so.”

Steve nodded once, backing toward the door, “Alright. As long as you’re sure,” he said, smiling.

“Absolutely,” James said confidently, “Just don’t push yourself too hard before I get down there, right?”

Steve snorted, laughing as he moved out of the main cabin, “Wouldn’t dream of it!”

Once Steve had gone, James turned his attention back to the controls. 

He had _technically_ been telling the truth. He was worried about the war, sure. But what he really needed was a second alone to get some advice from the only person he could think of to ask.

James just hoped he wouldn’t regret this later.

He tapped contact codes into the computer before sitting back and waiting for his call to be answered.

When the screen blinked to life, Dum Dum Dugan was staring back at him. 

“Barnes, if you’re calling for backup, you’re shit outta luck, all our boys are too far out to get to you,” Dum Dum said, raising his eyebrows, his tone entirely serious.

James laughed, “Why do you assume I only call if something’s wrong?”

“Because something always is?” the fur-covered man suggested, stroking his mustache and giving James a pointed look, “And because I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

James shrugged, biting his lip in an attempt to control his smile, “Can’t let you get too relaxed, now can I?” he said. He exhaled a low breath, adding, in a more sedated tone, “I was actually just hoping you could keep your ear to the ground for us. Find us a job we can get right into once we finish this delivery.”

Dum Dum’s eyes narrowed as he frowned, “You getting nervous about something?”

James scoffed a little, “Isn’t everybody? This war doesn’t look like it’s stopping anytime soon.”

Dum Dum nodded, watching James thoughtfully, “Alright. I’ll see what I can pull up for you,” he looked past James pointedly, “Where’s Steve at?”

“Stretching his legs down in the cargo bay,” James said, trying to sound casual but faltering as his heart beat faster at the mention of Steve’s name.

Dugan leaned closer, tilting his head curiously, “Uh huh. And why’d you really call?”

When James only looked down, running his thumb back and forth over his fingertips as he tried to form the right words, Dugan continued.

“C’mon, James,” Dum Dum prodded, “You coulda buzzed me a twenty-word message to ask me to keep an eye out for jobs. What’s up? Your face is doing that thing where you try to chew through your tongue ‘cause you don’t know what to say.”

James felt a wry smile creep onto his face and he forced his jaw to relax, “Know me too well, Dum Dum.”

“You’re damn right.”

James scoffed again, rolling his eyes, “It’s about Steve…” he began, hesitantly.

“Don’t tell me it’s not working out,” Dum Dum said, his shoulders dropping in resignation (way too quickly for James to not take offense, frankly).

“No!” James said quickly, shaking his head and lifting a placating hand, “No, it’s working. We’re… working.”

He felt a blush rising in his cheeks before he could control it and Dum Dum leaned back, staring at James. He could see the pieces falling into place in Dum Dum’s widened eyes.

“Don't tell me,” Dugan said slowly. 

When James’ blush increased, Dum Dum lifted a finger to point accusingly.

“You two did _not_ fuck. Tell me you didn’t.”

James choked in his rush to spit out his answer, “We didn’t! Goddamnit, _no_ , Dugan, we didn’t!”

“But you want to.” Dum Dum stated, clearly already convinced (and not _technically_ wrong).

James leaned his head in his hands, growling in frustration, “That isn’t the point. Can you just… shut up for thirty seconds, please?”

Dum Dum crossed his arms and nodded once, “What’s the point, then?”

James took a steadying breath, his eyes casting around the tiny cockpit to avoid looking into Dum Dum’s eyes.

There was nothing but silence. Silence cramming itself into every inch of space until it reached down into James’ mouth and tugged words from his tongue and into the open air.

“I… think I love him.”

More silence, the type a person could scream into. But instead James’ voice was quiet.

“And I think… he feels the same.”

James was staring down at his hands. Past his fingertips to the floor, tracing across the minimal distance until they landed on the copilot’s chair. Steve’s chair.

“So you haven’t told him?” Dum Dum asked, his voice surprisingly soft.

James shook his head, still not looking at the screen, “I can’t… find the words.”

Dum Dum took a deep breath and sighed it out, “Not surprising,” he said simply.

The statement took James by surprise and he looked over, meeting Dum Dum’s gaze with a heavy frown.

“What do you mean?”

Dum Dum’s lips tugged into a slight smile, “Last time you got involved with a partner, how’d that go for you?”

James rolled his eyes, “This is different than me and Natasha.”

“But it’s similar enough,” Dum Dum said, shrugging, “Face it, James, you’re scared.”

James scoffed, rubbing his eyes tiredly, “Of what?”

“Let’s check history, shall we?” Dum Dum lifted a finger, “First, you find a partner. They’re good for you and seem to understand you so suddenly,” a second finger joined the first, “you end up catching feelings. Now, third,” another finger joined the others, “you want to tell your partner how you feel.”

“Your point?” James asked.

“James, this is the second time you’re playing this game. Which means,” Dum Dum leaned in, his brows shifting under the mess of fur, “that somewhere in your brain, maybe something is telling you it knows what happens next. Because last time steps four and five ended with you and her both getting hurt.”

James bit his lip, “So, what? I kick my own ass and just force myself to say it?”

Dum Dum chuckled, “There are worse plans. Besides,” he smiled a little, “like you said, this is different than Natasha.”

A weak chuckle escaped from James, but he looked away from Dugan again, not nearly as confident as he wanted to be.

“James, don’t take this the wrong way,” Dum Dum said slowly, “but you have got to let her go.” 

James said nothing, still staring away from the screen, his jaw tight.

“I know she didn’t exactly give you closure,” Dum Dum continued, “Hell, she didn’t stick around to give you _anything_ , much less stop to make sure you wouldn’t be hung up on her, but…” he sighed, “Steve isn’t her. And if you’re right, and if he _does_ feel the same about you, he’s not gonna leave you for anything.”

The words hit home. And James smiled, the smallest bit, because Dum Dum was right. 

It was time to stop living in the past.

“Thanks, Dum Dum,” he murmured.

Dum Dum grinned, “You owe me lunch and a bottle of booze.”

James laughed, “I’ll buy you _two_ next time I’m at base, how about that?”

“I’ll call us even,” Dum Dum said, laughing, “And because I’m such a nice guy, I won’t gossip about you and Steve to the others. I’ll let you handle the announcement yourself.”

James leaned back in his chair, “Decent of you.”

Dum Dum gave James a small wave, “I’m sure I’ll see you around, Barnes.”

“Don’t think you can get rid of me,” James returned, chuckling as he waved goodbye.

As the channel closed, James took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, relieving the tension in his back as he did.

Well, that had been… enlightening? In any case, James felt slightly better.

He still didn’t know how he was going to say it. But at least he was determined to say it now.

He hopped to his feet and headed for the cargo bay, an easy smile pulling at his lips.

***

Steve had been noticing little things. Lately it seemed like James had something on his mind.

It was probably just the war. Admittedly, that was starting to get to Steve, too.

There had been a lot of gang activity. To the point that the Galactic Military had reclassified Hydra into its own league of “extremist militant anarchists”.

In Steve’s opinion, Hydra bore less resemblance to “anarchists” and more to a real military force. They clearly had their own command structure, and their attacks were too organized and targeted for anyone to consider them merely an attempt at mayhem.

But Steve was just a smuggler, so who was he to go around telling the military how to classify their enemies.

Of course, James’ recent preoccupation might have also stemmed from the whole… Steve nearly dying on Jotunheim… event.

Steve tossed the ball against the far wall of the cargo bay with more force than was necessary and was rewarded with it bouncing off into the dusty corner under the stairs. He grumbled to himself as he went to retrieve it.

He wished he wasn’t what he was. It wasn't the first time in his life he'd felt this way, but… 

It was the first time those feelings had come back since he had met James.

Steve grabbed the ball and carefully walked back to where he had been standing, not truly paying attention to what he was doing, simply going through the motions.

All his life he’d been the little guy. The sickly one. The one who got his ass beat.

Then James had come along and made him feel capable of anything.

But it still only took a bit of cold to knock him back down again.

He bounced the ball off the far wall and caught it.

James probably blamed himself for taking them to Jotunheim in the first place. But Steve knew… if James had gone alone, nothing would have gone wrong.

Steve loved his new life. But he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever belong in it as seamlessly as he wanted to.

Smuggling couldn't fix what Steve was, it couldn't change his physiology and make him stronger.

He tossed the ball away and lifted his hands to his face, his fingertips massaging small circles at his temples as he fought the urge to yell. To give a voice to his frustration with himself.

Because no matter what Steve felt for James, it couldn't change a damn thing.

“Dum Dum says ‘hi’!” James said, his voice cutting suddenly into the quiet of the cargo bay and startling Steve, who had been too preoccupied to hear him come in.

The smuggler was standing at the top of the stairs, smiling widely. Steve thought he looked happier than he'd been in weeks.

“Any luck?” Steve asked, relaxing his stance, keeping his tone casual despite the dark path his thoughts had just been taking.

James shrugged, trotting down the steps with one hand on the railing, “He said he’d try to line something up. No promises yet, but that’s Dugan for you.”

Steve smiled faintly, “Plays it close to the chest.”

“Always,” James laughed, stopping at the bottom of the stairs and looking at Steve with a curious, unidentifiable gleam in his eye.

Steve furrowed his brow, his smile growing slightly confused, “What’s with the face?”

James looked away, chuckling and shrugging again, stepping back to sit down on one of the bottom steps of the stairs, “I dunno. Guess I just feel lucky.”

Steve snorted and stepped over to settle down next to James, “Weren’t you all worried about twenty minutes ago?”

“Yeah, but that was then,” James said, looking at Steve with a smirk, “this is now.”

“Is there that much difference?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow. 

James leaned back, his smile growing, “Sure. A little perspective, a little determination. Things are looking up.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head at James’ optimism, “Damn. I guess your chat with Dum Dum really did you some good.”

“He’s a smart guy,” James said, his tone drifting thoughtfully.

Steve looked up at the high ceilings of the cargo bay, his smile still in place despite the way he wished he could feel as hopeful as James did.

“You know I haven’t thanked you,” James said softly.

Steve glanced over, his eyebrows darting upwards, “For what?”

James was already looking at Steve and he smiled as their eyes met, “It’s been a long time since I could trust someone as much as I trust you,” he put an arm around Steve’s shoulders and jostled him affectionately, “I know you have my back. You know I’ve got yours. Come hell or high water.”

Steve chuckled (and a not-small part of him wanted to lean into James’ touch), “‘Til the end of the line?”

“Damn right,” James said, grinning.

“There’s no need to thank me, y’know,” Steve pointed out, shrugging slightly under the weight of James’ arm. He tilted his head, adding quietly, “I’ve never had a friend like you.”

James was looking straight into Steve’s eyes, his gaze focused. He opened his mouth, eyebrows furrowing the tiniest bit, as if he was trying to form an idea into words.

Steve flushed slightly and looked away, even though taking his gaze from James felt like forcing himself to breath underwater.

“I mean, I never really had real friends before, anyway,” Steve chuckled wryly, trying to break the strangeness out of the air.

And maybe chase away the fleeting idea that he was close enough to kiss James if he tried.

There was a half-beat of quiet, the atmosphere changed very subtly from strangeness to… Expectation?

James broke the silence.

“Steve, I’ve been…” 

Another half-second. Hesitation and anxiousness colliding in an awkward battle, one that forced Steve to turn back to James. Forced him to meet his eyes.

James smiled the tiniest bit, his bright eyes shining even as he cleared his throat a little to start over.

“I mean, I was wondering-”

A loud tone chimed through the ship and James muttered a cuss under his breath and hopped to his feet as it blared a second time. Someone was calling them.

As Steve climbed up the steps after James, he heard his partner say, in a loud, annoyed voice:

“ _Timing_!” 

The tone sounded again and James broke into a jog to reach the main cabin faster. Steve followed him as fast as he could, but by the time he reached the cabin, James was already in his chair in the cockpit, typing commands into the console there.

But, as Steve went to step into the cockpit, James turned around, his face pale and his arm outstretched to stop the shorter man from coming any closer.

“Get back,” James said, his tone commanding enough that Steve stopped where he was.

Steve frowned, even as the tone chimed out again.

“What?” he asked, too confused to form anything more coherent.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” James said quickly, glancing over his shoulder at the console as if it was going to attack him, “Just… please stay back so you won’t be seen on the messenger screen.”

James looked terrified.

Steve took a step back but didn’t totally exit, a thousand more questions were burning in his mind.

“ _Please_ ,” James said, his eyes widening pleadingly, “I swear to you I’ll explain, but I don’t…” he shook his head, “It’s dangerous.”

There was nothing more to be said. James had never looked this scared in all the time that Steve had known him. Nothing, not the GM, not thugs with guns, not Jotuns or Asgardians or _anything_ had made James Barnes _pale_. 

Steve nodded once and stepped back from the cockpit, settling down where he wouldn’t be seen, sitting on the floor next to the cockpit’s stairs.

James turned around, exhaling a shaky breath, and answered the call.

“Barnes here,” he said, and Steve could tell he was putting on his steady, business-like tone that he always used when he negotiated deals.

“Oh, Mr. Barnes,” The voice on the other side of the channel was the type that could make skin crawl. Deceptively quiet, “It's been a long time, hasn't it?”

“What do you want, Zola?” James asked. 

“That's _Dr_. Zola,” the voice insisted, before continuing in the same blood-curdling tone, “And what else would I be calling for? I need your services.”

“I’m on a job right now, making a delivery, but gimme a few days and-”

“Whatever your price for that job,” Zola interrupted, “I’ll pay it. Plus extra. I need you to deliver something to me.”

James hesitated. Steve could see even from his awkward spot on the floor that his partner was uncomfortable with the situation.

“Listen, I didn’t get where I am in this business by flaking out on customers,” James said, shifting in his chair a little, “I made a promise to my clients. You’re a businessman, surely you understand.”

Zola laughed, an incredibly cold sound that filled Steve with dread.

“You made a promise? Really, Mr. Barnes?” Zola asked, “I recall that you made a promise to _me_ , long ago. I am calling you to make good on that promise.”

James took a breath and let it out in a terse huff, “Fine. What is it?”

Zola laughed again, “You see, I knew you would remember your loyalty!”

“I’m not _loyal_ to you,” James growled, “I’m only doing what I have to. To repay my debt. Now tell me what the job is.”

“You know,” Zola’s voice hadn’t changed from the faux-friendliness and he continued as if James hadn’t even spoken, “I remember your old partner. The one with the red hair. She was fun, I was upset to hear the two of you had parted ways.”

James’ back stiffened and Steve could see a nerve had been struck. 

Zola continued, “Of course… your new partner sounds interesting, too. The little Am’ric? Where is he?”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat and he told himself that there was no way he could have been seen from the main screen. 

James shrugged, “He’s helping a mutual friend on a different job right now,” he tilted his head casually, “I’d tell you more, but it’s a bit of a delicate spot, I wouldn’t want the wrong people hearing about it.”

“Of course not, Mr. Barnes,” Zola said, agreeing almost too quickly for comfort, a low chuckle bordering his words, “Then I suppose you’ll have to go alone to pick up my cargo. I will send you the coordinates, it’s a little spot in the Blurein System, out of the way of prying eyes.”

“I can be there in two days. What’s the cargo?” James asked.

Zola sniffed, as if perturbed by the very question, “You aren’t here to ask, you’re here to _do_ , you understand?”

“Sure,” James said, and Steve could tell from the coldness of his tone that he was clenching his jaw, “But after I’m done this job, my debt is paid. No more favors.”

“Yes, yes, of course, Mr. Barnes, I’m a man of principal. The deal was a single favor, I would never hold you to more than that,” there was a pause and Zola said, in a low voice, “I’ll be expecting you four days from now. Don’t be late.”

The channel closed abruptly, leaving dead silence in its wake. Steve stood up very slowly, almost afraid to move too quickly. The call had left a discomforting atmosphere that hung heavy against Steve’s lungs, making his breaths harder. (Or had he just been holding his breath this whole time without realizing?)

James was leaning on the control console with his face in his hands, his shoulders hunched as he took a few deep breaths.

“James…” Steve spoke slowly, still hesitant to break the quiet.

“I need to get you off the ship,” James said, his voice low and hoarse.

Steve stepped up into the cockpit and sat in his seat, keeping his eyes on James, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“No…” James sighed, shaking his head, “Steve, you have to. You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it,” Steve said, shrugging as he shifted, moving to be as close to James as he could be without getting up.

James slid his hands off his face, but continued staring down at the console, not even looking at Steve.

“Back when Natasha and I were rescuing kids,” he said, keeping his voice quiet and unnaturally level, “we made a deal with… with one of the doctors at a lab. We paid him off and he let us take some of the kids out. Just when we thought we were in the clear, another doctor…” he nodded toward the viewscreen, “Zola… he caught us. But instead of killing us or turning us in for his bosses, he told us we could take the kids for a price.”

Steve frowned, “A favor?”

James scoffed, “Yeah, and a shitload of money.”

“Why would he do that?” Steve asked, “And how could he be sure you two wouldn’t back out on the favor?” 

What Steve really wanted to ask was “why didn’t you back out of the favor?”, but he didn’t want to accuse James of anything.

James’ eyes got that distant look in them again, “Just as he was letting us go, he shot Tasha,” he swallowed, “and he said… ‘Remember this fear. This desperation to save the ones you love. Remember it, and don’t make me use it again. Just do as I ask, and things will be so much cleaner’.” 

Steve took a shaky breath, remembering the way Zola’s voice had sounded. The iciness. The disconnectedness.

James bit his lip, his eyes falling closed, “I held Tasha as she gasped and bled and cried and I thought I was going to watch her _die_. The only thing that saved her was the Red Room’s augmentations, and even then it was too close.”

Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest. James stayed stoic as ever, but Steve knew that was all surface-level. He could see his partner’s hands shaking, his posture stiff and unforgiving.

There was nothing he could say.

“Monster,” Steve muttered.

“Zola is a heartless little demon,” James said, his hands tightening to white-knuckled fists as he spoke, “Which is why I have no intention of letting you anywhere near him.”

“If you think I’m going to leave you to face him alone-” Steve started, indignant.

“This is _my_ past,” James said firmly, “and _my_ baggage. I won’t tangle you up in this mess.”

Steve almost rolled his eyes, “We’re partners. I’m not going anywhere without you!”

James shook his head and Steve’s chest tightened at the sight of frustrated tears in his eyes, “He’ll use you, Steve. Just like he used Tasha. He’s a sociopath who doesn’t see people as _people_ he just sees them as… as buttons to push to get what he wants.” 

“But what about you?” Steve asked.

James shrugged, “I have to go. Or this won’t ever stop chasing us.”

When Steve didn’t say anything, James reached over, covering one of Steve’s hands with his own.

“I’ll be careful,” he whispered.

Steve glanced over to meet James’ eyes, his brows furrowed, “So, what? You’re gonna drop me on a planet somewhere while you go off risking your neck?”

James shook his head, his face turned in a thoughtful frown, “No, too risky. Zola might want you for leverage. Why else would he ask about you? We need you somewhere we can trust.”

“Okay, so…” Steve said slowly (even though he still hated the idea of sending James off alone), “So we call Dugan and see if there’s Commandos nearby. I could spend a few days with Dernier and Gabe or Falsworth and Jim, right?”

James bit his lip, wincing his eyes closed, “No, no, I just talked to Dugan, he said if we needed help we were shit outta luck. All the Commandos are too far out.”

Steve shrugged, marginally aware that James still hadn’t let go of his hand, “So we gotta risk a planet somewhere. Do you know anyone close by? Anyone with a safe house?”

James opened his eyes, a look of sudden realization taking over his features, “Shit.”

“What?” Steve asked.

James glanced at him and squeezed his hand a little, “I might have a solution… but it’s not really ideal.”

Steve frowned, but before he could ask what James meant, his partner was climbing to his feet and heading out of the cockpit with a loud sigh.

Following more slowly, Steve stopped in the middle of the cabin to watch as James dug through his possessions for something.

“Do you remember,” James said, his voice muffled as he rifled through the small shelf in his bunk, “our first job together?”

Steve’s frown grew and he tilted his head, “Um, I guess? We had that run-in with the GM and had to move the cargo to a different spot. Why?”

James finally turned around, holding a piece of paper in his hand as he sat on his bunk with a tired expression.

“Carter… do you remember when she tried to give this to me?” James asked.

Steve concentrated, trying to recollect that day, “You mean, when she tried to hand it to you and then you sent me to go sit on the stairs?”

James smiled the smallest amount, “Sorry about that.”

Steve shrugged, walking over to sit down next to James, “I thought you told her off, I never imagined you’d take her up on it.”

“Well, she said I have a habit of risking my neck,” James said, turning the paper in one hand with a sour expression, “and gave me the option not to risk yours. Knew right where to hit me.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, surprised that James hadn’t told him earlier about taking Carter’s offer, “So you… You took it because of me?”

James sighed, still staring at the paper, “I didn’t want to mess up like I did with Natasha. I couldn’t stand the thought of… of watching another person I…” 

He drifted off, but Steve understood.

Steve let out a slow breath and closed his eyes, shifting in his seat until his shoulder was leaning on James’.

“You know that’s why I can’t let you go alone,” Steve murmured, “I can’t let you die.”

“Zola won’t touch me,” James insisted.

Steve gritted his teeth, “How can you know that? You said it yourself, the guy is _evil_.”

“He’s strategic. He presses buttons, uses leverage, only keeps people around if he can control them,” James said, and Steve could feel his arms grow tense, as if he was reliving old memories again, “If I don’t give him leverage to use, he’ll cut me loose.”

Steve could see the logic. And the danger. He wanted James to run away from this, but he knew that was his emotions talking. 

If running and hiding were an option, Steve would have begged James to consider it.

“Call Carter,” Steve said, his voice a rough whisper as he fought past his own feelings to speak.

James didn’t move immediately. In fact, he shifted his arm so it wrapped around Steve, tugging him slightly closer in an awkward half-embrace. They stayed like that for a minute or two (and Steve wanted nothing more than to bury his face in the fabric of James’ shirt and forget that the universe existed) before James took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. 

“Here’s hoping she can help, right?” James said, chuckling without any humor in his eyes.

Steve only nodded and walked over to his bunk to pack himself a bag.

He didn’t want to think about what would happen over the next few days…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO GLAD to finally be at this big big spot in the fic. I'm very sorry (not actually sorry) for the pain we'll all be in over the course of the next few chapters... ^_^'  
> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos! It all means so much to me!! As always, my tumblr (obscureenthusiast) is open for screaming at, AND I sometimes (ksagkhel ONLY SOMETIMES) post news about new chapters and the what-not. I think if you follow the tag "til the end of the stars fic" it'll keep you updated as well, since that's what I tag all my this-fic-related posts :P


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting Steve settled on the "Stratus" (under Carter's watchful eyes), James leaves for the cargo pickup, promising to be back to pick up Steve in one week. And, as much as he hates waiting, Steve makes a new friend...  
> And things do not go well for James Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHH hello, all!! okay so this chapter is shorter than most of the most recent ones, but there's uhhhh a LOT going on so I didn't want to have MORE happening, plus this ending felt like the most natural spot for the separation (aka, the author really REALLY likes cliffhangers and this one was too good to pass up :P)

The _GSS Stratus_ was just as big as Steve remembered it. And as _Winter_ settled into the massive docking bay, a cold sense of finality overtook him.

They had gotten lucky. Carter’s ship was in the area, transporting refugees to a settlement deeper into Galactic Alliance space.

The transmission to her had been brief, James skipping over as much of the truth as he could and making up what he had to. Steve had thought for a moment that she would say no, but in the end she’d nodded and sent them coordinates to meet up with the _Stratus_.

James and Steve walked down to the cargo bay side-by-side, achingly aware of the danger hanging over their heads. Steve’s hands clutched the shoulder strap of his bag like it was his anchor to the ship. 

Before hitting the door controls, James turned to look at Steve, his expression serious.

“Steve, I wanted to tell you before…” he said, but drifted off.

“What?” Steve asked, brows furrowing.

James shook his head a little, his expression changing as a small smile forced its way onto his face, “Don’t tell your mom how dumb I am. She’ll never trust me again if she hears about this.”

Steve chuckled, looking away, “Not a word, I swear. I happen to like having you around, and I think she’d probably kill ya.”

James punched the door controls and the cargo bay opened with a clamor that covered up the sound of their soft laughter, but Steve could still see the smile on James’ face.

He looked scared, underneath it.

Steve was scared, too, so why the hell were they laughing like their biggest worry was Sah’rea Roge’ehrs finding out about their dangerous missions?

As he and James headed down the ramp, Carter was already waiting for them, looking almost exactly as she had the first time they had met her. Her dark brown hair was pulled back from her face in a prim updo and the swirls of silvery markings across her nose and cheekbones seemed to shine under the harsh docking bay lights.

“Mr. Barnes. Mr. Roge’ehrs,” she greeted, as they stepped off the ramp.

James nodded, “Captain.”

Steve looked around the docking bay, “Generous of you to offer the help, ma’am.”

Carter smiled slightly, “Well, you two couldn’t have needed it at a better time. The military is usually fairly strict about civilian passengers, but since we’re already outfitted for refugee transport, another body won’t make anyone bat an eye,” she shrugging, adding, in a low tone, “Especially once I adjust the paperwork.”

Steve smiled a little, but still felt the heaviness in his chest. He glanced at James, wishing he could reach out for his hand or maybe have his arm around his shoulders. Something to ground him.

But he didn’t. And a moment later Carter was leading them both through the ship, explaining briefly where Steve would be allowed to go (it was still a military vessel, after all) and apologizing ahead of time for the lack of privacy that the refugee quarters provided.

“Quarters” was a loose term, of course. One of the ship’s massive cargo holds had been laid out with low cots that lined the outside edges of the room. There was a large open area in the middle of the space, though, where children were rushing back and forth, playing some game of tag or chase while adults hung to the outskirts of the room, talking to one another as they sat on cots. The people here were a rag-tag collection of species, and Steve heard at least three languages being spoken around the room in addition to Basic. He spotted a few card games being played here and there, a few people reading books or drawing, and there was the constant low murmur of voices, the type of noise you get when lots of people try to occupy and work in the same space.

“The mess hall isn’t far from here,” Carter said, as she stopped next to one of the few unoccupied cots, “I’ll be happy to show it to you later, if you like, or you can just follow everyone else when dinner comes around.”

Steve nodded as he took his bag from his shoulder and set it on the cot, swallowing down a hundred fears to mutter a quick, “Thanks.”

Carter nodded once, glancing between James and Steve before saying quietly, “Whenever you’re ready to go back to your ship, Mr. Barnes, I’ll be waiting by the door.”

“Sure thing,” James said, his hands shifting in what Steve recognized as nervousness.

As Carter walked away, James and Steve stood in awkward silence, facing each other. Steve was too afraid of what would come out of his mouth if he tried to speak.

Luckily, James broke the quiet, a tiny smirk creeping onto his face, “So, should I be worried about you trying to enlist again, with all these GM goons around in their shiny uniforms?”

This forced a tense chuckle out of Steve and he looked down, shaking his head.

“How many would that be?” James continued, clearly emboldened by Steve’s smile, “Six? Seven tries?”

“Something like that,” Steve murmured, glancing up to meet James’ eyes, “but you know they’d never take me. I’m out of practice, I haven’t tried to apply in months.”

“Well, just don’t do anything stupid ‘til I get back,” James said, smiling.

“How can I?” and Steve felt something shatter in his chest, something that made his smile begin to fade, “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

James saw it. Steve knew in an instant, with a subtle change in James’ expression, that his partner saw Steve’s resolve cracking. And all at once this silly game they’d been playing, pretending not to care, that broke, too.

James stepped forward and grabbed Steve into a tight hug, “C’mere, punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve whispered as he gripped the back of James’ jacket, his eyes closed tightly as if hanging on and hoping would be enough to keep James here.

“I promise… I’ll be back before you know it,” James said.

Steve swallowed, “Stay safe.”

James pulled back a little, still holding onto Steve’s shoulders but creating just enough distance that they could lock eyes.

“A week. Two days to the cargo pickup, two days to the drop off, then three days where I’m haulin’ ass to get back to you, ‘kay?” James raised his eyebrows, “Seven days.”

Steve nodded barely. They’d gone over the flight plan again and again. He had repeated it like a mantra in his head.

James opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out. Instead, he let out a breath and leaned forward, taking Steve by surprise as he kissed his forehead.

Before Steve could fully process this, James let him go, stepping back and saying, in a loud voice, “I’ll see you!”

Steve blinked a couple times before saying, in the closest approximation of snarkiness he could muster, “Keep your ass outta trouble, Barnes!”

James smiled (even though the fear and sadness were still there in his eyes), waving a before turning away. Steve watched James’ back until he disappeared out the door with Carter.

They didn’t say goodbye. Steve didn’t think either of them could have spoken it out loud.

There was too much finality in a goodbye.

***

Most of Steve’s first day on the _Stratus_ passed in a blur. He’d eaten and gone to bed, where he caught a few hours of fitful sleep before waking up early the next day to the sound of a few others stirring and milling around. 

James would be travelling today. Tomorrow was the cargo pickup.

Steve stumbled to the mess hall for breakfast while it was still quiet. There were a few refugees already there along with a handful of GM soldiers in uniform, but everyone was quiet and kept to themselves. After eating, he headed back to the cargo bay, unsure what else he _could_ do.

He sat down on his cot, watching the people around him until he finally dug out his sketchbook.

Half the pages in this book were James. James lounging casually in the pilot’s chair. James smiling, laughing. Sitting on the edge of his bunk fidgeting with some cheap puzzle he’d picked up at a market, his forehead creased in concentration. 

Steve flipped past those older drawings to get to a fresh page, but the reminder was a bitter one.

He shouldn’t have been here while James was off risking his life. It wasn’t fair.

Steve gritted his teeth and flipped to a new page to start drawing, hoping the action would alleviate some of his tension. Or at least take his mind off of things for a while.

By the time lunch came around, Steve felt like he’d sketched most of the cargo bay’s inhabitants. As if he could erase his thoughts of James just by drawing as many others as possible. Of course, there were plenty here to provide the distraction, there must have been almost a hundred people (he thought he remembered Carter saying that there were seventy-something people, but he’d been too preoccupied to take note). 

He wandered into the mess hall with the rest of the refugees, but stood back to allow those with families to go first. The food was practically the same as it had been that morning, pre-packed protein rations. Enough to fulfill basic food groups as well as supplement necessary vitamins and minerals. Tasted like freeze-dried anything, but Steve only smiled and took his share.

Free food was free food. Especially when he wasn’t even meant to be here.

Steve settled down at a small table, fully expecting to eat alone. He didn’t know anyone else, and he was wary of starting up conversations that might lead to suspicious questions, such as why he was here when he clearly wasn’t a refugee.

“Excuse me?” a voice said.

Steve looked up in surprise at the older man standing beside the table. 

The man smiled, nodding toward the empty spot across from Steve, “Do you mind if I join you?” His words were slightly accented, though Steve couldn’t pinpoint exactly where he was from.

“Uh, no, not at all,” Steve murmured, shifting his tray to make room. He knew sending the guy away would probably raise more questions, but he hated the feeling of dread that crawled in his stomach.

“Thank you,” the man said, sitting down. 

He had thinning white hair which popped in contrast to the dark blue markings dotted across his features (Steve wasn’t sure if those were natural or some kind of tattoo, but he could see more across the man’s arms). Two thin antennae shifted slightly over the top of the man’s forehead as he smiled at Steve, his eyes bright behind his glasses.

The man offered a hand across the table, saying quickly, “Abraham Erskine. Or Dr. Erskine,” he smiled, “Or simply ‘Erskine’. No one seems to like my first name.”

Steve returned the smile, shaking Erskine’s offered hand, “Do’oridto Roge’ehrs. Uh, or ‘Steve’.”

Erskine laughed, “Quite the different nickname.”

“You warm up to it after a bit,” Steve joked, shrugging.

“So, Steve, you just got here yesterday?” Erskine asked, raising his eyebrows with interest.

Steve cleared his throat a little, nodding awkwardly as he picked at his food. This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid.

Luckily, Erskine seemed to pick up on Steve’s discomfort and changed the subject quickly, “Word of the wise,” he smiled a little, “the food gets worse the longer you wait.”

Steve laughed a little, taking a bite, “I didn’t know it could _get_ worse.”

“Oh, it’s terrible. Gets all lumpy when it cools off,” Erskine said, grabbing a generous portion of his own food onto a fork and lifting it like he was toasting, “But you know what they say. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

Steve nodded a little, “It’s better than nothing,” he agreed.

Erskine smiled, but there was a slight sadness in his eyes, “Oh, yes, nothing. I’ve had that for far too many meals in my life.”

Looking away, Steve continued to eat for a few minutes in silence, unsure how to respond. 

“So, you’re a doctor?” Steve said, finally, raising his eyebrows, “My mom’s a nurse.”

Erskine grinned, “It’s a noble profession,” he said, tilting his head, adding quietly, “I was mostly a research doctor. I wanted to find cures. Make scientific breakthroughs, that sort of thing. Your mother, she works at a hospital?”

Steve nodded, “Same one she’s worked at since I was a kid,” he said, letting a small smile slip onto his face.

“I can tell you’re very proud,” Erskine said, looking down at his plate, “They say healers have the toughest job of the war,” he chuckled a little.

Steve swallowed the mouthful of food he was chewing and asked, “What were you researching?”

Erskine laughed and Steve thought he detected some nervousness in his eyes, “Oh, anything. I wanted to cure incurable diseases, correct birth defects, find new treatments for the kind of ailments that follow people through their lives,” his smile faded a little and he shrugged, looking away, “Of course, that was before the war got bad. No one cares about long-term illness when so many people too busy fighting or starving. So my research lost funding.”

Steve frowned a little, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Erskine murmured. He shook his head, “No one wants to talk about the war. I know I don’t,” he raised his eyebrows at Steve, “Tell me about yourself, Steve. What do you like to do?”

Steve noted Erskine’s careful wording. He wasn’t asking what Steve’s job or background was. He was giving Steve control over how much information he gave. It was small, but Steve was glad of it.

He smiled, “I draw. Not professionally or anything I just,” he hesitated, chuckling, “Well, I got sick a lot as a kid. So I taught myself how to draw. Read a lot of books to pass the time.”

Erskine grinned, “I suppose it was better than getting into trouble on the street?”

“Oh, no, I did that, too,” Steve corrected, laughing, “I got into fights all the damn time. Got my ass kicked and lost every one.”

“Why…” Erskine frowned slightly, tilting his head, “Why did you fight if you always lost?”

Steve shrugged, smiling somewhat sheepishly at his plate, “I don’t like bullies, I guess. Someone would say something outta line and… no one else was gonna stop ‘em, so I gave it my best shot,” he shook his head, “I guess that sounds pretty dumb. The scrawny guy trying to throw his weight around..”

Erskine chuckled a little, “Not dumb,” he said, “Brave, I think. The mark of a good man.”

Steve laughed, “I wish the guys beating me up had seen it that way.”

“Well,” Erskine tilted his head, his tone taking on a sarcastic bend, “they were clearly too busy to notice.”

“Too busy hitting me?” Steve asked, raising his eyebrows.

Erskine gave him a joking smile, “That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

Steve laughed again, looking down at his food.

He appreciated the company, he really did. The talking helped take his mind off of things.

Tomorrow was the cargo pickup. Then two days to Zola. Three days to get back to here. Six more days. He just needed to make it six more days.

***

James took a steadying breath as the cargo bay doors opened, wincing as bright sunlight and a gust of hot wind hit his face. He tapped the blaster at his hip, mostly just to assure himself that it was there before disembarking down the ramp.

He had left his jacket in the ship (because this place was nothing but heat and sand and he did _not_ plan on overheating in this hellscape), so there was nothing to hide his weapon. Although he doubted Zola’s contact expected him to arrive unarmed.

Turning around to input Winter’s lock codes, James winced again as a bit of wind whipped sand into his face. Of course Zola would find someplace as unpleasant as this. The easiest way to avoid prying eyes was just to make sure there were no eyes around at all. It wasn’t like anyone would be stopping by for a visit or a vacation.

As the cargo bay clanked shut, James reached up to run his hand along his ship’s wing, smiling slightly at the way she was shining in the sunlight.

Best ship in the galaxy.

James took one more deep breath before he started his walk to the stunted-looking equipment depot Zola’s coordinates had led him to. It was a squat little stone structure that seemed to shrink into the sand. There were no windows, only one large cargo door and a door which read, in faded lettering, “customer entrance”.

When James walked in, he could hardly see for the cluttered mess that covered almost every inch of the room. He frowned and walked slowly into the space, his eyes carefully scanning the room.

His hand drifted ever-so-slightly closer to his blaster.

“Hello?” he called, “I’m here for a pickup!”

The sound of a blaster rifle powering up behind James barely preceded the stern voice as it cut through the quiet of the shop.

“Who sent you?”

James stiffened and turned very slowly to face the voice, “Dr. Zola,” he said, carefully looking over the stranger who was currently pointing a large-ass gun right at him.

The man was muscular, with dark hair and the vaguest stubble of a beard. He looked… almost human, except in his eyes, which were a dark orange that almost glowed (almost animalistic). And James could see the tracings of scars and metallic pieces embedded in the man’s bare arms which he recognized in a second as augmentations. 

Tasha’s augments had looked almost the same.

The second of tense silence passed and thankfully the man relaxed, the gun raising slightly to point up toward the ceiling as he did. A miniscule smile crept onto the man’s features, but it felt colder than a smile ought to be.

“Right. And you are?” the man asked (and James could see his arm was still tensed, like the gun could come back level in a moment’s notice). 

“James Barnes,” he answered, “and you?”

The smile grew slightly, still not really a comforting sight, “Rumlow,” the arm carrying the gun relaxed completely now, bringing it to rest against the man’s shoulder rather than poised and ready, “Sorry for the unwelcoming welcome, Barnes, but you can’t be too careful.”

James didn’t move, his muscles still tight with suspicion, “That’s a pretty big gun for an equipment depot manager,” he said, a critical edge to his voice as he ran his eyes along the length of the weapon.

Rumlow snorted, “You think so? ‘Cause the way we see it out here, you have to defend yourself,” he shook his head, “No military. No police. Not out in this part of the desert.”

James raised an eyebrow at the concealed threat behind Rumlow’s words, but merely nodded once, “You watch after your own.”

Rumlow shrugged, stepping around James and saying, in a throwaway manner, “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept. You were a soldier, right?”

James narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening into a firm line, “Zola told you that, huh?”

Rumlow laughed and turned around, looking James over with his wild eyes, “He mentioned it,” he said simply, shrugging, “I guess it’s easy to take orders from maniacs like Zola after you trained to be a military dog.”

James stepped forward, “I don’t take orders from Zola,” he said, through gritted teeth, “This is a temporary arrangement.”

Rumlow scoffed and turned back around, gesturing vaguely for James to follow him to the back of the room, where a banged-up metal door was.

“I don’t give a shit what your ‘arrangement’ with Zola is. I’m here to do my job, just like you,” Rumlow said.

James bit his tongue to keep from saying a dozen snarky statements that would land him in myriad levels of trouble.

Just get the cargo and go. That’s all he was there for.

Rumlow pushed open the door, which screeched on rusty hinges. The area beyond was dimly lit, but the way the noise from the door bounced into the room, James figured that this was the warehouse proper. 

James followed Rumlow through and the lights above clicked on more slowly. As the door slammed behind them with a loud scrape, Rumlow continue talking.

“So, I’m sure, since you’re a man of business, you understand the policy we have?” 

James was busy surveying the room around them, but grunted out a noise that sounded enough like “what?” to keep Rumlow going.

“The crates are locked up for a reason. You don’t ask what’s in ‘em.”

James nodded, “Yeah, I don’t really want to kno-”

In a split second, James felt something urging him to _move_. He only realized later that it was a combination of many things. The soft sound of movement ( _of someone walking_ ) behind him. The accompanying, distinctive noises of metallics ( _a weapon_ ) clicking. Rumlow glancing back momentarily but not looking at James. Looking _behind_ him. Something deeper, too. An instinct he’d learned to trust too long ago.

He cut himself off, spinning on his heel and ducking. Grabbing his blaster from its holster and flipping the safety off with one hand, he fired a single shot.

The thug rushing toward him dodged safely behind one of the warehouse shelves as James’ blaster shot cracked into the air like lightning, streaking through the warehouse with ugly neon light. James spotted movement in the shelves beyond and immediately sought cover for himself down one of the aisleways.

Rumlow yelled something to James’ other pursuers just as James stopped behind a stack of crates to collect himself.

A goddamn trap. He winced his eyes closed and took a sharp breath in. How could he have been so damn stupid?

But it didn’t matter now. He had to get out.

 _Fuck_ Zola. If James ever saw that bastard again-

A blast roared past James’ hiding spot, sizzling into the wall with the sharp _snap_ of energy. He turned and ran, staying as low as he could as he headed toward the warehouse exit (even though he knew that would be the first spot they’d guard). 

A man in a dark jumpsuit rushed at him from the left, too quickly for James to level his blaster. 

James twisted and smashed his elbow into the guy’s face, buying himself just enough time to fire a single blaster shot at his knee. As the man fell, crying out in pain, to the floor, James shoved him into a shelf, hard enough to knock the whole thing backwards and (James hoped, at least) delaying the others. He didn’t worry about the amount of noise he was making, they knew where he was already.

He didn’t know how many were after him, and he couldn’t afford to wait around long enough to figure it out.

“You should give up, Barnes!” Rumlow shouted, his voice echoing strangely off the warehouse’s stone walls, “We’ve got you surrounded, all the exits are covered!”

James shot another thug twice (once in the shoulder and the second into his leg) as he sprinted through the shelves. He body slammed yet another one into a shelf hard enough to knock the guy unconscious before continuing his dead run for the door.

He didn’t bother to yell the reply to Rumlow that burned on the tip of his tongue, though he was tempted to let it slip past the grimace of concentration he wore.

_Don’t count on it, assholes._

He had too much to get back to, there was no way he was giving up here.

“ _Barnes_ ,” Rumlow practically drawled James’ name, “you’re just making this harder for yourself!”

James slowed, with a hesitant glance behind himself. The blaster fire had calmed down, and he was relatively certain that no one knew exactly where he was at this point. But now that he was close enough to see the warehouse door, he counted three guys with the same style of big-ass gun Rumlow had been toting when James arrived. Rumlow himself was nowhere to be seen, which worried James. Not that he could let that stop him from doing what he had to. 

Tightening and relaxing his grip on his blaster a couple times in an attempt to steady his hand, James took a deep breath as he braced himself.

That door was the fastest way outside. Once out there, he would have to sprint for _Winter_ and get his ass off this planet before Rumlow could get to his own ship or otherwise call for backup.

He tried to tell himself that he’d survived slimmer odds in the past, but that didn’t help his current situation. That only meant his dumb luck might just run out here.

But Steve was waiting up for him.

Now _that_ was a compelling reason to get the fuck out of here. Luck or no luck.

James breathed in and out before turning and letting off a single shot, his legs pushing him into a full sprint even as his took aim at his second target.

The nearest guard crumpled, his hands clutching at the new bleeding stomach wound. James fired on the furthest guard from him as he headed straight for the center man, the one nearest to the door handle. As the further guard fell, James deflected the center guard’s blaster as it fired, sending the bolt sizzling up at the ceiling. 

The guy shoved James just far enough back to connect a free fist to James’ gut, sending the air rushing from James’ lungs. James staggered, but brought his blaster down to shoot at what he hoped was the guy’s foot. With a pained cry, the guy stumbled and fell (and James counted that as another little bit of dumb luck).

James moved past the guy as quick as he could and gripped the worn handle of the warehouse door. He shoved the heavy metal and it scraped open just enough for him to slip through, the hot desert air hitting his face in like the jolt of reality after a bad dream.

He started his sprint across the sand, not daring to look back because there was nothing he could _do_ if they came after him, the flat expanse of sand before him offered no cover in its featureless waste. 

The first of the pursuing blaster fire crackled through the air, missing him by feet or inches he couldn’t tell (and honestly didn’t want to know, as long as it wasn’t hitting him). His legs scrambled for purchase on the sand and his lungs burned for relief.

And when something hit James’ arm with enough power to send him sprawling, he landed face-first into the burning sand and the pain was enough to keep him there for longer than he liked.

The feeling of a blaster bolt cutting through skin is unlike any other sensation. It’s hot and then… a distinct _void_ of sensation. The heat and energy contained in a bolt is hot enough to damage down to the nerves. But in the split second before those nerves stop feeling anything, it burns. Excruciatingly. 

Which is why, when James opened his eyes and began to struggle to his feet (mainly because the instinctual part of his mind was still pushing him to _move_ and _run_ ), he was surprised at the screaming pain when he tried to use his left arm to push himself up. And, when he was on his feet, he was surprised again at the sensation of hot blood dripping down off the fingertips of his hand. Staining the sand with dark drips of red. 

“Are you done yet?” a voice asked flatly.

James turned three quarters to meet Rumlow’s eyes. The other man stood maybe six feet away, his gun levelled at James as a sort of casual threat. 

He still had his blaster and his right hand. He could still shoot.

Two other thugs stood behind Rumlow, their guns on James.

James’ good hand tightened on the grip of his blaster.

Rumlow noticed the tension and shook his head, “Don’t. I mean it.”

“If you’re gonna kill me,” James said, his voice coming out in a rasp as he fought what he suspected was the onsetting symptoms of shock, “I’m taking all of you down to hell with me.”

Rumlow scoffed, “Really dedicated to the hero thing, huh?” he asked, his voice edged with thick sarcasm, “Well there’s just one problem with that plan,” he shrugged, “We’re not allowed to kill you. Maim you, sure. But they want you alive.”

When James only frowned at this (and his confusion at who the hell “they” were was seemingly more than apparent), Rumlow let out a cold laugh.

“You shouldn’t be surprised,” Rumlow smirked, “There’s some folks who’ve got questions for you, Barnes-ey boy. And I bet you know what they wanna talk about.”

James bit his tongue, saying nothing. He focused on breathing (and trying to ignore the amount of blood he was losing out of that blaster wound).

He lifted his gun to point it at Rumlow.

Rumlow nodded once, as if accepting James’ choice.

James squeezed the trigger as the armed thugs closed in.

_Steve was waiting up for him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhhhhhhh okay so I've started the next chapter already so hopefully we'll get an update soonish? I'm wondering if I should start doing shorter chapters in order to have more a regular update schedule?? what do ya'll think?  
> IN ANY CASE uhhhhh yeah there's a LOT going on in the next chapter as you can imagine and beyond (our Do’oridto is gonna be getting more dorito shaped here pretty soon *wink wink*) that I'm very very very excited to write so stay tuned!! ^_^ as always I love you all, and I hope you liked this chapter!! or at the very least that you hated this chapter with that good kind of angsty hate, you know the type. ;P


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James hasn't come back and Steve struggles to find things to do with himself. He and Erskine have a good conversation and Peggy offers to help.  
> ... Things get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay soo uhhh this is kinda a big chapter (even though it's only 5k words) in that it represents what I've always thought of as the "mid-point" for this fic? Kinda? :P We'll have to see if that pans out chapters-wise, not that I'm too worried about it. It's just that this chapter is kind of... a really big thing for Steve? And this is a big part of the changes and the arc that he experiences in this fic. 
> 
> Content warning for this chapter: There's some blood, broken bones, and a bit of implied torture. Nothing really explicit.

Steve was fidgeting. He’d wandered aimlessly through the _Stratus_ earlier that morning to release some of the nervous energy that had been building in his bones over the course of the last few days. It was maddening, this feeling, and today was the worst of them all.

James was late.

He was supposed to arrive yesterday and Steve’s stomach tied itself into knots as he imagined the thousands of ways that things could have gone wrong. 

Carter had assured him that delays were a normal part of space travel, and had promised to let Steve know if she heard anything from James.

Steve told himself he was probably overreacting. James was smart and capable and he would come back.

_He will come home_.

Erskine (who had taken to keeping Steve company during both meals as well as the hours of time they had to kill) had noticed Steve’s extra anxiousness and seemed to want to help distract him. He’d invited Steve to play a game of cards and they’d set themselves up over three cots, one sitting empty between them to serve as a table.

And, although grateful to have something to do, Steve kept finding his focus drifting. Erskine kept having to remind him when it was his turn.

“Sorry,” Steve murmured (after Erskine had to remind him for the fourth time), quickly picking his cards and placing them down.

Erskine shrugged a little, “No worries,” he said, playing his own cards. 

He hesitated a moment and Steve could see him thinking while he took his turn.

“There’s something on your mind today, Steve,” Erskine finally said, looking at him with raised eyebrows. It wasn’t a question.

Steve swallowed, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Erskine took a breath, “Of course, I wouldn’t want to pry,” he said.

“Then don’t,” Steve said, more sharply than he meant to.

They both fell silent, an awkward feeling settling over them like a cloud, and Steve immediately regretted his tone.

Before he could rectify the mistake, though, a GM officer was walking toward where he and Erskine sat. And Steve’s heart leapt to his throat, a question already on his lips.

_James_. 

But the officer didn’t even look at Steve. He was focused fully on Erskine and, even as the question in Steve’s mind died, the officer spoke in a curt, business-like tone.

“Dr. Erskine, the captain wants to speak to you in half an hour,” the officer glanced at Steve furtively before returning his attention to Erskine, “bring whatever research notes you have, there may be questions from some of our scientists.”

Erskine nodded once, “Understood,” he said, his voice quiet, “tell her I’ll be there.”

The officer turned sharply on his heel and walked out, and Steve looked across at Erskine, a frown furrowing his brow lightly.

What kind of research would the military want? And why did Erskine suddenly look so nervous?

Erskine glanced up to meet Steve’s eyes, a sad smile on his lips as he straightened his glasses with one hand, “So, we seem to have caught each other.”

Steve’s frown grew, “What do you mean?”

The doctor laughed, looking down at his cards, “You’re wondering what the captain wants with a simple doctor’s research notes, yes?”

“Well… yeah,” Steve shrugged a little, tilting his head, “Crossed my mind.”

Erskine nodded, “And it crossed my mind that you seemed to expect that officer to talk to you, not me. Which begs the question… why?” he shrugged, “What would a military officer want with a simple refugee?”

Steve’s jaw tightened a little and he looked down at his cards. Erskine was right. He was caught.

“You’ve known I wasn’t a refugee from the first day I got here,” Steve murmured, remembering the way Erskine had first asked him about his odd arrival.

“True,” Erskine agreed. He looked across the cargo bay, at the door where the officer had disappeared through, “But neither am I, so I have no room to judge.”

Steve frowned and stared at Erskine until the other man looked over and smiled slightly.

“I _am_ a research doctor,” Erskine continued quietly, “and I was… in a way, rescued. But I wasn’t just a wayward civilian in a war zone,” he glanced away again, his eyes growing distant, “The Galactic Military wanted my expertise. And, more accurately, they wanted my expertise away from those who would abuse it.”

Steve was almost afraid to ask what exactly it was the GM wanted. 

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, instead.

Erskine looked surprised. His smile widened a little, “Because you’re a good man,” he said simply, then added, “And because I don’t want you to think I’ve lied to you.” 

Steve shrugged, “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

Erskine chuckled, “Maybe not. But I can see you’d like one.”

“Well…” Steve’s eyes darted away as he scoffed, “yeah… okay, I do.”

“I was working for Hydra,” Erskine said. His voice was so low and quiet that Steve almost didn’t hear him. 

When Steve’s gaze snapped over to look at Erskine, he was staring down at the floor, his face remorseful.

“The war got bad,” Erskine said, just barely louder than a whisper, “and suddenly no one wanted me to research diseases. They wanted me to help create super soldiers.”

Steve swallowed, “And did you?”

Erskine wasn’t looking at him, still, and the sadness in his eyes grew, “I had no choice. They took… everything. My family was marched away and I…”

He drifted off, but Steve understood. The desperation to keep the ones you love safe, that was something no one deserved to face. It was an impossible choice.

That desperation was the reason Steve was here at all. James’ _need_ to keep him out of danger.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said.

A small grimace, like an almost-smile, tugged at the corners of Erskine’s mouth as he continued, still quiet, “And now here I am. SHIELD wants my research, so I can only hope the right people will get it.”

Steve smiled wryly, “I’d trust the GM over Hydra any day.”

Erskine nodded, bobbing his eyebrows, “I hope you’re right, Steve,” he said, finally looking up with the ghost of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

And Steve suddenly realized that Erskine had told him his secret, and couldn’t help but feel… compelled to do the same in return. Erskine was a good man, and he deserved an explanation.

“Me and my partner are… cargo runners,” Steve blurted out, unable to stop the words from coming.

A knowing look gleamed in Erskine’s eyes, “Like smugglers?” he whispered.

Steve laughed weakly, “That’s what I said, right?”

Erskine smiled, “Your partner, I think I saw him drop you off. The tall man with the dark hair and the blue jacket?”

Steve nodded, his brow furrowing in confusion, “Yeah, how did you…”

Shrugging, Erskine replied simply, “I happened to be nearby, happened to have an eye for things out of the ordinary, you know how it is.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow, “So that’s why you came and talked to me?”

“Well, I figured,” Erskine said slowly, thoughtfully, “We were both alone and determined to hide why we were really here. So perhaps we could keep one another company.”

When Steve only snorted, Erskine raised an eyebrow, adding quietly, “But you’re worried about your partner’s safety?”

Steve nodded barely, “He, uh,” he swallowed, letting out a slow breath, “He was supposed to be back yesterday,” he rubbed his forehead, looking away, “Went off on a dangerous mission, left me here to sit on my ass for a week… and now he’s late and it feels like it’s my f…” he shook his head, as if he could shake away the lump building in his throat, “my damn fault. For not being with him or something, I don’t know. I think I’m just getting scared ‘cause he’s not here.” 

His last words came out in more of a mutter than anything else as he shrugged his shoulders dismissively. (Though he felt anything but dismissive about this.)

Erskine sighed, “If something has happened to him, Steve, it couldn’t be your fault,” he said, before adding, with a sad smile, “But good people always seem to blame themselves. Maybe because the bad people refuse to.”

Steve knew that it wasn’t his fault. He _did_. But the weight in his chest wouldn’t budge. 

He took a deep breath and shrugged again, “I just want to know he’s safe,” he murmured, looking at his cards.

Erskine nodded, “I understand. I’m sure there will be news soon.” He reached over and patted Steve’s arm comfortingly, “Don’t lose hope.”

Steve smiled weakly, unable to find the right words.

Erskine sighed, folding his cards and setting them on the cot in front of him, “I need to gather my materials. Wouldn’t want to keep Captain Carter waiting,” he looked at Steve, brow furrowed, “I’ll be back later.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be okay,” Steve said, nodding at Erskine to go.

The doctor smiled at him, standing up and patting Steve’s shoulder one more time before stepping away so he could dig through his bags.

And Steve really hoped that this feeling of dread in his stomach would go away soon.

***

James was two days late, now. And Steve felt like he was gonna crawl straight out of his skin.

He was more sure than ever that he _should_ have gone with James. He should have insisted that he go along, just in case.

Not that there was much Steve could have done if something went wrong… 

But at least he wouldn’t be sitting around here waiting. Useless.

He walked out of the mess hall after a meal he barely picked at, the constant buzz of worry in his stomach too distracting for food to hold any appeal.

“Mr. Roge’ehrs!” a voice called.

Steve spun around in surprise, met with the sight of Captain Carter walking towards him, her posture rigid in that serious way that the military trained into every soldier.

Whenever he saw the officers stand like that, he couldn’t believe that James had ever been one of them. Sergeant James Barnes seemed… impossible. 

The James that Steve knew was always grinning, always lounging and leaning and tucking his hands into his pockets. Steve couldn’t picture James ever falling to attention just because someone told him to.

But Carter stopped in front of him and tucked her hands behind her back like a proper soldier, the expression on her face unreadable.

“I’d like to talk to you,” she said.

And Steve’s heart stuttered and pounded, but he spoke, barely keeping his voice from shaking.

“Is it news about James?” he asked, and for the life of him he couldn’t tell if he hoped for a yes or a no.

Carter shook her head, “No,” she said, before gesturing back toward where she had come from, speaking in a lower voice, “Can you walk with me, Steve?”

Her use of his nickname threw him off. She had _never_ referred to him like that, and it was a strange level of familiarity for her to assume. He frowned at her a moment but finally nodded.

She gave him a small smile, the tiniest break in her mask of “serious military captain”, and started walking, slowly at first to allow Steve a moment to fall into step beside her. They walked for a few minutes in silence before Captain Carter spoke again.

“We’re having trouble locating Mr. Barnes. It seems his ship’s fallen off the map entirely,” she said as they walked, and Steve saw her eyes glance over to him, as if gauging his reaction.

Steve swallowed, shrugging, “James is pretty good at that,” he murmured, “Might be that he’s in trouble and thought it’d be safest to go off the grid a little while.”

She sighed, “We’ve considered that,” she said, then turned her head to look at him completely, adding, in a low tone, “But if there’s _anything_ you can tell us about who he was meeting with or where he was going…” she raised her eyebrows, “It might not be too late for us to help him.”

He tightened his jaw, looking away.

“ _Please_ ,” Carter said, stopping them in a quiet hallway. It was just him and Carter, now, and Steve was starting to wonder if this was an interrogation.

“Was James right?” Steve asked, looking up at her with boldness, “Is the GM really just trying to protect their secrets? Is that why you’re so concerned about him?”

Carter looked… insulted? Maybe. Steve didn’t know, because a second later her face was back to the mask of captaincy. This time, though, there was a bit of gentleness.

“I don’t know,” she said, in a quiet voice that made Steve want to believe her, “I really don’t know what business he was involved with when he was a soldier and I don’t care. I’m just trying to help, Steve, I swear to you,” she blinked and took a steadying breath, “It’s not easy losing people. I can tell he means a lot to you, so I just want to help you get him back.”

Steve’s hands fidgeted, fingers entwining and releasing each other nervously as he looked down at the ground, biting his lip in thought. She seemed genuine, but he had trouble believing _any_ GM captain, after the stories he’d heard from James.

“Just… think about it. Come with me,” Carter said suddenly, nudging Steve’s shoulder and continuing down the hall.

Steve followed along at her side as she led him through parts of the ship that he’d never been allowed to go to before. She didn’t press him for more information, oddly enough.

Carter nodded greetings to officers that they passed and then stepped into a lift, waiting a moment for Steve to follow before pressing a code into the main panel. Steve shifted awkwardly beside her as the doors closed and the lift began moving.

In the quiet space, Carter finally spoke. 

“Just… tell me yes or no,” she looked at him levelly, catching his eyes with an intensity Steve hadn’t seen before, “The deal that James mentioned, did it have anything to do with Hydra?”

Steve stared at her, “No,” he said firmly, “James would _never_. How can you even ask that?”

“I promise, I’m not accusing him of anything,” Carter said, turning her gaze back to the door, “I just needed to know. Call it peace of mind.”

He nodded once, but was still stung at the question. On top of all his worry for James, the idea that his partner would ever be involved with Hydra was close to insulting.

James wasn’t the bad guy. 

The lift stopped and the doors slid open. Carter stepped out first and Steve was a half-step behind her, gazing out at the expanse of stars at the front of the room.

“Captain on the bridge!” a voice said, and Carter quietly dismissed the salutes that came from around the room.

The bridge of the _Stratus_ was absolutely huge, with view screens stretching around the room on almost all sides. Steve couldn’t tell if they were actually windows or digital screens with the space projected onto them, but standing where he was, at the back, he could almost convince himself that all the officers on the bridge could float away at any moment.

And he remembered the time he and James had floated hand-in-hand, staring out at the stars from the inside of _Winter_ ’s cargo bay.

“ _It’s not falling,_ ” James’ voice said in Steve’s mind, a ghost from what felt like a thousand years before. And Steve could see him in his memories, a bright smile sparking up into his blue eyes, his face illuminated by the starlight that danced off the clear mask of his spacesuit.

“ _This feeling, it’s like… flying_.”

And suddenly Steve could almost understand. He could almost see James standing at the front of this starship, dark green GM uniform spotless, smiling out at the stars in secret while the rest of the officers worked dutifully at their tasks.

The way the officers were working now, at stations all over the room. Steve couldn’t tell what they were doing (and he guessed he wasn’t supposed to) as Carter led him quickly across the back of the room, through a doorway and into a smaller chamber that looked more like an office or a study. The walls hung with ancient-looking paper star maps in simple wooden frames and a few books sat on shelves beside a large circular viewscreen which looked out at the stars beyond.

The door slid closed quietly behind Steve, and Carter waved him toward one of the chairs in front of the desk as she took a seat on the other side.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this,” she began, as he settled hesitantly into his chair, “but on vessels like the _Stratus_ , transmissions sent from the ship are monitored through military channels. Not _constantly_ , but any suspicious activity in the logs is often investigated.”

He remembered James warning him about that. It was why Steve wasn’t supposed to call him or any of the other Commandos unless totally necessary. He nodded a little, frowning.

“I guess,” he said, shrugging.

Carter smiled and ducked her head to rummage through one of the drawers of her desk for a moment or two before sitting up and setting a simple handheld communicator on the table between them. It had a tiny screen at the top and large analog buttons, no touchscreen. The thing looked about two generations out of date.

“I always keep this around just in case. It’s not on any of the military’s monitored channels, so I can call anywhere without raising eyebrows. It's the comm number I gave to James. I’ve been using it to try and reach him, with no luck,” she said, her tone casual as if discussing the evening’s dinner menu.

Steve looked at her in shock, his gaze travelling carefully between her and the communicator. 

She shrugged a little, “I figured you may have some… friends to call. Business associates?”

He blinked a couple of times, now staring down at the communicator and remembering the first time he’d met her. How she’d known they had illegal cargo and hadn’t done anything to stop them. How she’d given James her contact. And now, here she was, hiding a smuggler among refugees and telling him to call his ‘business associates’ on an untraced line…

And he realized that what she’d said before, about just wanting to help him get James back, was absolutely true. 

Carter really was the real deal.

“You’re not like any captain I’ve ever met, ma’am,” he murmured, smirking a little.

Her smile widened and she opened her mouth to respond when a commotion outside cut her off. There was shouting and the sounds of footsteps rushing and a loud voice that sounded like a recording booming from the bridge. 

Immediately, her face fell into a confused frown and she pushed herself to her feet, practically running for the door.

Steve followed after her as fast as he could, not waiting around for someone to tell him what to do. 

When he stepped out of the office, there were uniformed GM staff running everywhere. Carter was standing in the middle of the room, shouting over the rush.

“Someone tell me where this recording is coming from and shut it _off_!” she was yelling, gesturing at the screen in front of her pointedly.

There was a video playing, and Steve moved a few steps closer to get a better view, his brows furrowing as he watched.

A man with skin the color of fresh blood sneered into the camera, speaking deliberately slow, as if worried the viewers would be too ignorant to understand. Steve recognized him from newsfeeds (it was hard not to). This was Schmidt. The Red Skull, leader of Hydra.

“--fools. You’ve tried to keep me from the path of destiny and you have failed time and again.”

As the camera panned away from Schmidt, Steve was vaguely aware of Carter calling his name. But the video refocused on a bloodied and bruised figure sitting hunched in a chair, and Steve’s gut twisted, a dark feeling settling in his chest.

“Mr. Roge’ehrs! _Steve_!” Carter was yelling, and somewhere in Steve’s mind he could tell she was getting closer, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the screen.

He had to know who was in that chair. He had to.

A rough hand grabbed at Steve’s shoulder and he flinched away, only tearing his eyes from the screen for a moment to look up at Carter. She had an iron grip on his arm and was pulling him toward the door.

“You can’t be in here!” she hissed.

Her back was to the screen, she couldn’t see what Steve did.

She didn’t see the man on screen lift his head weakly and look at the camera, forcing absolutely every bit of Steve’s mind to leap into a panic. Forcing the whole room to fade into the background. All sounds, all movement, none of it mattered anymore. 

“ _James_.”

The name slipped audibly from Steve’s lips even though he didn’t intend it to leave his mind, cutting into the air, strangled and helpless as he dug his heels into the ground and pulled against Carter, his eyes fixed on the screen as if James could know he was there if he concentrated hard enough.

And Carter stopped and looked back at the screen, her hand loosening on Steve’s shoulder as she realized what was happening.

James looked terrible. Exhausted and filthy and covered in bruises and cuts, his clothes stained with blood old and new, on his left shoulder a large bandage haphazardly wrapped, and Steve didn’t know what to _do_. 

What could he do?

Schmidt was back, walking over to James purposefully and Steve realized then that the red man had been talking. He didn’t know for how long, because everything had dissolved into _James_ the moment he’d seen him.

“--has such extreme loyalty,” Schmidt said, scowling, “for a man who has not been part of your organization for so long. Such a shame. I had hoped to get what I wanted out of him, but…” he reached down and stabbed two fingers at James’ injured shoulder.

James cried out in pain and Steve’s hands curled into fists, his stomach churning at the sound.

Finally letting up the pressure from his hand, leaving James gritting his teeth and wincing against the aftershocks of pain, Schmidt looked at the camera. 

“...there are others I can use,” he finished simply.

James looked so small beside Schmidt. Steve could tell that Red Skull was probably at least seven feet tall, but as he wrapped a claw-like hand around James’ injured shoulder Steve thought he appeared even bigger. More imposing. More dangerous.

Schmidt’s hand tightened threateningly on James’ shoulder and his other hand grabbed the smuggler by the hair, forcing him to look at the camera.

“Is there anything you want to say, Mr. Barnes? This is your last chance.”

James took a shuddering breath, his face twisted in a pained grimace as he spoke, his tone dripping with exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking in a way that made Steve’s heart clench.

Steve could almost pretend that James was looking at him. There were tears of pain shining in the corners of James’ eyes, but he also saw a familiar determination there.

He almost didn’t want to see what would happen next, but he couldn’t turn away.

Schmidt smiled mockingly, “Sorry for what, Mr. Barnes?”

James’ jaw clenched with something more than pain and his voice changed. No longer exhausted, there was the hot sting of _rage_ there, like the last explosions from a dying star.

“Sorry I won’t get to see you die, you tomato-faced asshole.”

Schmidt’s face contorted into a mask of anger and he tightened his grip on James’ injured arm, drawing a sharp cry out of James as he twisted it.

“ _No_ ,” Steve’s voice came out as a whisper and he took a halting step forward. As if he could stop all of this from this side of the viewscreen.

“I will never stop searching,” Schmidt said, “There is no place that you can hide your information that I will not get it.” 

He was pulling James’ arm behind him at an uncomfortable angle and James’ whimpers and cries grew louder. Steve’s breaths came in desperate gasps, his heart pounding in his chest and his stomach growing sick with disgust.

“You will all be bent,” Schmidt growled, as James’ arm stopped, refusing to move back any further.

“You will all be broken.”

The sickening noise of bone crunching filled the room, followed swiftly by James’ scream, which drowned out everything else.

Steve shouted, too (though his voice was lost beneath the sound of James’), a wordless outcry before he clamped a hand over his mouth for fear of the nausea in his stomach.

James’ arm hung limp when Schmidt released it. There was blood dripping down his hand and Steve knew that probably meant the bone had punctured through his skin. He was groaning in pain, his right hand struggling against where it was tied.

“I have no use for people who stand in my way,” Schmidt said, before looking at something off-camera and shouting out orders in a language Steve didn’t recognize.

Two masked soldiers walked over and grabbed James, half-dragging him, chair and all, away. The camera followed them. 

James looked barely-conscious, his head lolling, his face pale and covered in sweat. Steve swallowed and he could feel his hands shaking, dread and nausea and _shock_ running through his body like a ice cold fog.

This couldn’t be happening. _Gods_ , this had to be a bad dream.

They untied James from the chair and pulled him, whimpering, to his feet. He could barely stand, so they half-dragged him into the next room and dropped him unceremoniously onto the floor, drawing a muffled cry of pain from James as he crumpled.

The masked soldiers walked back out and a heavy door with a large glass window slid into place and locked.

The door read “Airlock 003” in bold red letters.

Steve wanted to wake up from this bad dream now. He couldn’t watch this happen. He couldn’t, and yet his eyes remained open. Sickness was swirling in his stomach, a lump blocking his throat as panic rushed through him. 

He could see James use his good hand to push himself up. Just enough to look out the window. 

Schmidt turned to face the camera as he delivered his final words, “Those who cannot be used will be discarded. With the rest of the garbage.”

All Steve could hear were his own breaths rushing in and out.

And then the outer airlock doors were opened. And then James was clinging one-handed to the closest handhold, struggling not to be pulled out into the void of stars behind him as droplets of his own blood floated up around him.

Steve could see him gasping for air that wasn’t there anymore, and Steve’s own gasping breaths picked up in response.

It was only a moment or two, only a few seconds, really, before Steve could see James weakening. 

_Don’t let go_. _Don’t fall._

James was in agony, Steve could tell. His face was contorted in pain like Steve had never seen, and Steve felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes.

_I need you here. Don’t let go_.

For a brief second, James glanced over at the window of the airlock. Over at the camera and Steve saw his eyes. Saw all the fear.

Saw regret.

And he fell. Collapsing back into space, into that dark void of stars.

“Bucky!”

The word fell from Steve’s lips and he wasn’t even sure how loudly he’d spoken it, but it echoed in his own ears, mocking him. 

James’ lifeless form drifted, the light from the airlock casting over him with strange shadows.

And James couldn’t hear him. Would never hear him again.

For a second, and only that, Steve thought he might wake up from this nightmare. Open his eyes and hear _Winter_ ’s familiar engine hum, see James’ sleeping form across the room.

If there was ever a time to wake up from a nightmare it was now.

But then the video cut off and Steve collapsed to the ground, as if the only thing keeping him upright had been the sight of James. He retched, barely managing to keep from throwing up everywhere, as the full weight began to hit him.

_James is dead_.

Steve was sobbing, hot tears tracing down his cheeks, and he didn’t care who saw it. He was hysteric, his mind racing turbulently from thought to thought but most of all thinking _nothing_ except a static, single fact.

_He’s dead._

It was like Steve couldn’t _breathe_ , his every inhale shuddering and shallow.

A hand came to rest on his arm, a voice speaking gently through the haze of his mind.

“Steve,” Carter said, “Come with me.”

He wiped his eyes with a hand and looked up at her, shaking his head.

“He’s… that _bastard_ , how could he just…” he whispered, his voice hoarse and his thoughts unfocused, “He can’t be dead. He can’t…”

Carter put her other hand under Steve’s elbow and tugged him softly to his feet.

“I’m going to have someone escort you to the medical bay, alright?” she said, her voice quiet but steadying.

Steve didn’t look at her. Didn’t even answer her, he simply murmured, to himself more than to anyone else.

“I never told him. I wanted to tell him I…” 

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off, clenching his jaw. Carter guided him and he followed her willingly. He didn’t have the strength to fight right now. They reached the door, where an officer with a white medic’s patch was waiting for him.

“I’ll check in on you later, Steve,” Carter said, “I have to deal with the fallout here.”

He nodded numbly, and in the back of his mind he realized…

_Steve_. James had been the first one to call him that. And now that he was gone, it felt hollow. Tainted.

Fighting tears, Steve followed the medic through the halls of the ship. 

He was empty. 

What was he supposed to do now? Where would he go?

Steve was trapped, alone, to try and pick up the broken pieces of everything he had once held onto.

And he wasn’t sure he _could_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF uhhhh this chapter HURT to write, tbh, and I really hope I managed to get the emotions on the page well enough, I'm always worried about that because I feel a LOT of emotions when I'm writing... ^_^' 
> 
> Okay so my MAIN concern is that now that this chapter is part of the fic... I'm not sure "teen and up" really sticks as a label? But I'm not sure this is bad enough to constitute "mature"? I dunno, I don't usually write blood/gore/violence so most of it's just insinuated, but if any of you feel this requires a content warning (beyond what I put in the chapter notes?) PLEASE let me know. 
> 
> And lastly I feel bad that I kind of sprung James... fuckin' dying?? on you guys? :P I feel like a lot of people were expecting the usual beats of the Cap films; Bucky goes away, Steve gets big and rescues him, a little later Bucky dies (or ""dies"" ;P). But uhhhh I hope ya'll won't hate me for it!! I have big plans for James' return, but this is... the start of a section which I've referred to as "the Steve chapters" in my story outline (I know, it's shocking, I have a story outline ;D) because for a little while it's just gonna be our beautiful rose-colored boy as POV.   
> I'll be taking care of ya'll, don't worry. <3 I promise you, this is a love story, not a tragedy. :D
> 
> As always!! Thank you all so much for reading!! <3 <3 ^_^


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